Ghostbusters Doom Patrol: Bohemian Rhapsody
by CJ Bacon
Summary: The fate of destruction is also the joy of rebirth.
1. Act 1

Bohemian Rhapsody

A Ghostbusters Doom Patrol Adventure

_Is this the real life?_

_Is it just fantasy?_

_Caught in a landslide,_

_No escape from reality._

_Open your eyes,_

_Look up to the skies and see..._

Chapter 1: A Fine Madness

The fire danced madly in front of the face of the Disciple as he stared deep into it's flames, his dark eyes looking for an object that he had lost but not yet attained. He shook his head solemnly, pulling off his brown hood, revealing pitch-black hair as he rose from his solitary bench and reached for a small pouch. Sticking his hand inside, he pulled out a handful of what appeared at first glance to be sand. But, as he turned towards the stout figure behind him, and held the grains out, it was glowing.

"Do you see this, my friend?" he asked. His voice was deep and hollow, as if it had rarely been used. There was also a touch of a British accent upon his tongue. The stout man bowed his head lazily to look at the grains. Like the Disciple, he too wore a hood, only his completely obscured his face. It was his hazel eyes that remained seen, as they poked out from between two holes in the hood.

"You see, these grains were partially interwoven with the ashes of Myydrin the Great. In the simplest terms, a powerful potion can be made from these embers. Of course", the Disciple said, turning his attention again towards the stout man. He raised his empty fist and struck the man in the face, sending him to the ground. "Of course, you would not know this. It's a shame, really. You could have been just as great as he was, if not greater." The Disciple looked at the stout man wallow on the ground, attempting to stagger to his feet. The Disciple felt a sudden surge to hit the man again, but refrained. He then shrugged.

"But that's not a problem anymore. Not for me anyway." He turned back towards the flames. With little flair and ease, he tossed the sands that contained what remained of the great wizard into the fire. For a moment, it appeared that it had gone out, extinguished by the grains. Then, suddenly, with great and terrific fury, the room around The Disciple and his companion exploded in light, as the fire leapt alive. A satisfied smile played upon The Disciple's lips as black and silver smoke billowed from the ashes of the logs. The fire was burning on its accord own now.

"Splendid", he said silently to himself, as he watched the smoke begin to take shape. O

The skies of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania were tinged a cool pink, unusual for sunsets of this hour. It was summer, and, in the suburbs that connected Philly to New Jersey, most kids would be out playing tag in the yard, shooting each other with Super-Soakers, and eating their fill of hamburgers and chips. These are really the days that they long for, an artificial relief from the real world for a scant few months.

From their point of view, it is paradise.

From another, it can be a nightmare.

For Eric Jackes, it was not a time to be playing silly kids games. Jackes was an honors student at his high school, a freshman who had skipped a grade and was now a junior. He was well liked by his teachers, wanted by every girl in the school and county, and, for the most part, was a popular guy all around. He was the one everybody couldn't imagine doing anything wrong; one who would never hurt anybody; including a fly.

_That's all meaningless_, he heard the voice say in his head, as he stood on his back porch. No, the voice was not in his head. It was, in fact, his own, deepened and hollow from the usual bounce that his friends had come to know. In front of him lay the crumpled forms of two children. His brother, Ralph, age 8, breathed heavily as he stared at his older brother's face. Blood was pouring from a wound to his head. Not fatal, but it had somehow sent the child into shock, so sudden was the attack. Beside him was Jackes's sister, Evangeline. The little four-year-old lay motionless on the ground, barely alive. Protruding from her shoulder was a four-inch wooden handle. In the yard before them lay a dented bloody shovel.

Jackes's eyes reflected no emotion as his brother continued to stare at his attacker's face. His mouth moved several times, as if he wanted to say, "Why are you hurting us?"

But no sound escaped. All around them, except for the summer chirping of crickets and late-evening birds, was utter silence.

_Stop holding back Eric_, the voice whispered in his ear. _Do it_. His limbs guided by an invisible force, Jackes's hand grasped the broken handle. He pulled it out with a sickening, shucking sound. For a moment, Eric held the broken edge above his sister's back.

_Finish it. NOW!_ But Eric held back. The poltergeist inside of him noted this, sneering at him.

_I see. You are a lot stronger than I originally gave you credit for. Interesting._

"You can't make me kill my family!" Eric shouted. Ralph Jackes's noted that tears were beginning to stream from eyes that seemed somewhere else at the time. Hearing Eric's comment, he hoped that their mom and dad were okay. Though, if they had not heard Evangeline's scream, something was seriously wrong.

Then suddenly, Ralph saw a bolt of lightening hit Eric. He thought it was weird, because there was not a cloud in the sky and it was horizontal. And for one thing, the bolt was orange and blue. And for another, it seemed to be coming from the back.

"Andy, I thought I said to wait on my mark!"

"Yeah, well I was getting bored listening to that schizoid bullshit."

Ralph could not focus on the figure walking towards him, his vision blurred by the bolt. He could barely make out the outline of a tall figure, whose hair was a mixture of brown and black. Behind this figure was another, taller than the first, and well muscled. He was a man who wore glasses that glistened in the fading sunlight. Both wore navy-blue uniforms, with square things on their backs.

"Are you all right?" the figure with the brown/black hair said. It was a female voice, warm and soft. As his vision cleared, Ralph saw that it was a woman of Indonesian-Spanish descent staring at him. She too wore glasses, however hers were of a purple tint. He read her nametag, which was an embossed red over a black rectangle: DURAN.

"Are you all right young man?" the woman repeated. Ralph nodded. He tried to get up, but fell down again as he felt the ground give way under him. He couldn't feel his legs.

"My head hurts", he said. The woman looked at the wound. She reached into her belt and pulled out a bandage.

"It's not much", she said, "but it should quell the bleeding. Is that your sister?" Ralph nodded again. The woman immediately went over towards her and checked for a pulse. "It's weak, but she's alive", she said, turning her head past Ralph and towards her companion. Ralph looked behind him and jumped a little bit. The figure behind the woman was a young man, with spiky black hair that stood straight up. He was tall and burly, with very little emotion showing on his tanned face. His eyes, much like Ralph's brother, displayed nothingness, as if the person behind them had died long ago. Unlike the woman, his uniform was not a jumpsuit, but rather a dark trench coat with the arms sewn off. On the coat bore the name in crimson letters: WILLIAMS.

"Andrew, call CJ and tell him that we've found the kids and we're going to need Rob and Brian. Tell him we've got a Class VII on our hands. We need backup. NOW." The man (Andrew) held back for a moment before saying:

"On it." He then disappeared back into the house, his coat trailing behind him.

The force of impact had sent Eric Jackes's flying from the porch and into the yard. His smoking body lay there for a few moments, as the entity inside him gathered its thoughts together.

_Impressive_, it said through Jackes's mouth. Jackes's rolled over onto his palms and helped himself up. His clothes had been somewhat burned in the blast of protonic energy Andrew had let loose. _I do commend thee on thy efforts to save this soul_. The entity wiped blood from the corner Jackes's mouth. It smiled at the woman (Salina Duran) as she helped Ralph and Evangeline up.

_However, you do not understand the dark powers of Abraxas!_ Salina did not know what was going to come next. She could only guess as she finally got Ralph to his feet, and Evangeline cradled in her arms. The entity that had taken control of Jackes's simply stared at the porch and Salina could feel the PKE valences in the air.

She whispered in Ralph's ear. "If you can, I want you to jump."

Ralph looked at her confused.

"Don't argue. If you want to save your brother, I want you to jump..._NOW!_" The floorboard of what had been the Jackes's front porch exploded in an intense fury of fire. Ralph and Salina rolled in the grassy knoll near a bush. Both were unhurt.

"Stay here", Salina said, lying the still unconscious Evangeline under the bush. "Don't come out until I tell you to." Ralph automatically understood. Salina smiled as Ralph watched her turn her back towards him, revealing something he had seen on the news months ago with his father. It was about an incident in Toronto where he had seen several people wearing these strange backpacks. He had asked his father what they were.

He answered simply.

"They are proton packs, Ralph. They're Ghostbusters."

Down the street from the Jackes's home and parked rather outlandishly, inauspicious amongst the groves, was a large black van. There were various gadgets of all sorts on top of its equipment rack. Inside, a wiry African-American male watched in utter disbelief on the camera as an explosion occurred. He watched as the entire front of the Jackes's house blew up. Something had gone wrong.

The voice on the little radio he carried confirmed it.

"What are you three waiting for, a smoke signal? Get your asses in gear. We're about to have a helluva fight; we need back-up pronto!" It was Andrew Williams, the resident gung-ho member of the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. Before the African-American male could respond, Andrew had turned off his radio. The male turned his attention back to the camera, as he saw Andrew's muscled figure sprint back to the house.

"Dammit", C.J. London said under his breath as he turned towards the stout man sitting next to him. There was a note of worry on his face too. He did not need to ask CJ any questions. He had already pulled out his neutrona wand.

"So what are you guys waiting for?" said the driver in the front as he looked at his two companions in the rear-view mirror. He was another African-American, more built than the thinner CJ. He also had a shaved head.

The stout man (Brian Roig) nodded in agreement. "HAUL ASS!" he shouted, as Rob Statler floored the Ecto-1M, its twin motors roaring down the road as the van sped towards the house.

At that moment, a thought dawned on CJ.

"You're not going to ram through the house, are you?" he asked, his eyes wide. Rob casually placed a fresh toothpick between his lips and grinned.

"Climb up to the Proto-Gat", Rob said, thumbing towards Brian. "From the readings I'm getting, we're going to have a hot night."

"I miss anything?" Andrew asked, running up towards Salina. He was not out of breath, despite running a good three blocks. She often wondered where he got the energy. But she was glad he was not. It had been nearly two years since Doom Patrol had first been established, two years since the nightmarish adventure in Dalton, Nevada, where she first met CJ, Brian, Andrew, and Rob, who hooked up with the team after the town's destruction. Everything that had happened since then was ingrained into her memories forever, some good...some bad, and she got a feeling of comfort knowing her four "brothers" would always be there for her and each other.

She shook her head, allowing herself to release a smirk. "No. Readings show that our possessee is getting stronger."

"How strong?"

Without taking her eyes off of Jackes, Salina showed Andrew her modified PKE meter. He glanced a look and snorted. That was how Andrew J. Williams, renowned hunter of the undead, reacted to things. Whether it was facing a horde of werewolves, the centuries old ghost of a heretical reverend, or demons from a plane of existence not yet discovered, Andrew would look them in the eye...and spit in it.

And he got enjoyment out of it.

"Okay, we've wasted too much time already", he said grinning. At his left side, he twirled the hilt of his trusty Hastings; in the other hand he held his neutrona wand. "I can't really wait for Rob and the other guys to get here. And is it me, or is everything suddenly getting hotter?"

Salina could definitely feel that Andrew was right. She stared at Jackes for a moment and he stared back at the two of them. The atmosphere around them had suddenly elevated. She knew this feeling quite well, having once faced similar settings on an expedition into the deepest bowels of Rankipoor. Whatever demon had gotten hold of Jackes was channeling its powers through the air; building towards what CJ would have called a "cataclysmic finishing move!" There would not be much time to waste. She and Andrew had to act now.

Salina was the first to open, shooting out a jet of red plasma towards Jackes. Andrew followed her. She was grateful that Rob had modified these packs, which were stylistically different from the Mark IV's that were the standard trademark of most Ghostbusters franchises. These new ones were slightly lighter in color than the original coal-colored packs. The newer models (which Rob dubbed the Mark V) could do everything to originals did, with one minor difference: the protons could now be harmless to possessed humans. Though it still didn't eliminate the need for the Slime Blowers, the fact that now you could confine the host in a neutron stream made things easier to handle.

Andrew sniffs the air, "You hear that?" He said, chancing a glance behind his shoulder. It sounded like an engine, going at 80...no, 100 miles per hour? Bursting out of the rubble of the kitchen, and performing a landing that would have been worthy of Bo and Luke Duke was the Ecto-1M, appearing as if it were some black monster, landing between Salina and Andrew and Jackes, separating them from the demonic teenager. Sliding the door back was a slender young man of African-Indian descent, with dreaded hair hanging in front of glasses. Perched upon his head was a battered pair of Ecto-Goggles.

"Yo'", CJ London said to his comrades, stepping out of the van. Strapped to his back was a 1989 model Slime Blower, a piece of weaponry he was quite fond of. "We heard you needed some help."

"Better late than never", Andrew said. He looked up and saw Brian had slid back the canopy towards the Proto-Gat. He did not need to be told that he was holding Jackes off, but the Gat had very little of its own power. All it would do would make Jackes even madder.

Behind CJ, Robert Statler strapped on his pack and hopped out. "Brian gave us enough time to get ready, but I think it ain't working", he said. He looked over at Andrew, who had shielded his eyes.

"Jesus, Stat!" he said. "When the hell are you going to grow some hair? I nearly got blinded by the sheen!" Statler flipped Andrew a silent middle finger, as Salina and CJ stifled their laughter.

Looking down at the ground to see that everything was set, Brian knew he had to shut down quickly. From the moment that had gotten no more than a few feet away from the house, he had sensed something..._ethereal_ about this whole thing.

Brian's whole stigma was that he was an advanced sorcerer, a damn powerful one at that. Though his main profession had been occult studies, like Salina, he had supplemented that with immersing himself in the knowledge of every form that the art of magic could teach him. One of the "tricks" he had learned was to use his "Second Sight": as the Ecto-1M approached the Jackes house, he could see the powerful aura around it. While regular humans saw only a house, Brian saw a crippling blackness all around, with the house at the center.

A shatterpoint, he had learned it was called. These shatterpoints had the devastating potential to be either gateways for other entities or were the focused energy of the entity therein.

In this case, it was both.

And now, as he stood looking at Eric Jackes, he was shocked to learn that he could not see his shatterpoint. It was not there. All Brian saw was the desolate blackness that, the man who had taught him this ability had said, drove the ignorant insane with its bleakness. Brian didn't feel crazy at all. That was far from his mind at that point.

The demon used Jackes's eyes to stare back at Brian. The stare caused the stout young man to feel a cold pang in his bones, as if everything around him was completely frozen.

_You are one with great power. I can feel it._

The voice startled Brian as he made a move towards the Gat. But he couldn't. It was as if his whole body had suddenly gone limp.

_Why do you insist on remaining a child? These paltry "Second Sight" antics are beneath you..._

'Damn', Brian thought to himself. 'Bastard's getting into my head'. It was at that moment that Brian realized that he was no longer in the Jackes's backyard. He wasn't even in Philadelphia anymore. The black hole had seemed to sweep over him, as the demon had somehow transported himself and Brian into another plane of existence far beyond the ones that Brian had been in and researched.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice echoing endlessly in the distance.

_Nowhere, yet somewhere_. _Not dead, but alive. Here you can exist everywhere at any time. I just wanted...to talk._

"Take me back now", Brian said, his voice becoming hard. Jackes just smiled and crossed his arms.

_Or what? The subconscious binding spell I've got you under cannot be broken unless I will it so. Besides, I did not go to all this trouble just to be brushed off. _

"What are babbling about?"

_Oh yes. My defeat is indeed inevitable. I have seen it. The moment we return, your friends will capture me and I will become just a nameless villain to you. But I choose this body for a purpose, just so I could get your attention. _

"What?"

_It worked quite well, wouldn't you think. I could have just as easily snapped the spine of that Andrew Williams if I wanted to. Or made sure that that pretty Salina Duran never saw the light of day again. But I didn't. You're probably asking yourself the usual Why, Who, and What's. Two of which I cannot answer, as I've revealed too much already, but I will answer one. Can you guess which it is?_

Brian quickly tired of this game. His eyes flashed a dark blue, as he suddenly regained control of his limbs. Letting his "Second Sight" guide him, Brian jumped from the van ("Why the hell was it even here?" he wondered to himself) and, whipping out his neutrona wand, landed in front of Jackes, the wand pointed directly underneath his neck.

"What are you?" Brian asked, his gloved hands gripping the teen's throat. Suddenly, he felt himself shocked by the voice that came out of his own voice. It was foreign, very much alien to him. Jackes just grinned. He seemed pleased by Brian's flash of anger.

"Ask Riddle", Jackes said and laughed.

"BRIAN! GET DOWN NOW!"

Brian's senses snapped back to reality. He was back in the Jackes's backyard, and his teammates were behind him. His eyes looked up once to see the broken end of the shovel (forgotten in the midst of the battle) hurtling towards him. At the last minute, Brian broke the sharp end off of the shovel, but it was a half second late: the spade itself knocked Brian across his head, sending him to the ground with a thud.

"That does it!" Andrew said firing at Jackes. "I am so freakn' sick of this creep! CJ, hose his ass!"

"With pleasure." The pink slime shot from the cannon of the blower like a flowing river, reminding CJ of a fire hydrant being loosened. The force of impact from the cannon knocked down Jackes, as he was completely covered in mood-altering slime.

"I think he's done", CJ said turning off the blower. Indeed, Jackes lay flat on his back, not unconscious. The slime neutralized the affected host, causing whatever had possessed him to pass out of his body. He would be waking up feeling like a million bucks.

"Get ready!" Rob said leveling his neutrona wand. The Doom Patrol members watched as Jackes's body glowed yellow for a moment, as a silvery mist slowly rose from his chest. It did not take form, but sprouted red eyes. It looked over at Brian's limp form and laughed.

It was at that moment that Rob, Salina, and Andrew fired their packs in unison, ensnaring the ghost in a neutralizing field. Seeing that the ghost was firmly secured, CJ unlatched the Ecto-Sphere from his belt.

"ECTO-BALL, GO!" he shouted and tossed it in the direction of the demon. The quintet all turned their eyes from the next scene as a burst of energy escaped from the ball, illuminating for a moment the yard. The ghost was ensnared as the positive neutrons weakened him. He did not struggle as he disappeared inside the ball.

Within seconds, it was all over.

The best part of being a Ghostbuster appears here:

Several minutes after the poltergeist has disappeared, an ambulance arrives. Very quickly considering how out of the way the nearest hospital is from the suburbs. It parks itself beside the Ecto-1M. Salina, going over to check on the kids one more time, helps them over to the EMT's waiting for them, as they load Jackes's onto a stretcher. He is not hurt, but the effects of CJ's Slime Blower were still purging his body of the evil effects that the poltergeist had wrought on him. As Salina busied herself helping the paramedics in the ambulance, nobody (for a few moments) noticed the sleek white van driving slowly up the road towards the house.

A news van bearing the logo of local Philadelphia news station, WPVI Channel 6 Action News, as well as the logo of news nuisance Jane Robards, appears at the scene a mere two minutes after the ghost has been caught. The first person to catch a glimpse of this is Andrew, as he helps CJ load his Slime Blower back into the van. Rob is already inside checking the specs on the Ectomobile.

"Good God", he groans, nearly dropping his end of the blower onto the ground.

"Hey! Watch out!" CJ yelled, catching the middle of the Slime Blower with both hands. "What the hell'd you do that for?" Andrew did not look at him as he nodded his head in the direction of the fan. Before CJ had a moment to fathom what he was looking at, he found himself staring into the receiving end of a rather large, black microphone.

"Dr. London! What a nice surprise!" Jane Robards in her pitched, near squeaky-clean voice. Robards had, at one time, been one of Philadelphia's rising news journalists. She remembers a point in her life when the best stories would always be credited to her name.

The Hershey Killer? Covered by her. A book deal was in the works, but things had somewhat fallen through recently.

The ENRON scandal? WPVI was the first to crack it.

9/11? Robards stayed on the air that whole terrible week, reporting not live from New York City, but from the studio. The information she received was from the BBC, NBC, Fox, and CBS. But, fancying herself an actress, she poured heart into it, raising more relief funds than any institution in Worcester County.

And yet, even as she pointed the microphone at CJ, smiling sweetly at him, inside...she reviled anybody who wore that idiotic No-Ghost symbol. She remembered back in 3rd Grade watching all the boys play Ghostbusters with their baseball bats. Even then she thought it was stupid. Her father said so himself, and he was Philly's most prominent reporter. She could never fathom what it was about a bunch guys (and, as of lately, girls) who went around zapping ghosts. Despite the fact that she had had an encounter herself with the recently deceased, Jane Robards still did not buy what the Ghostbusters were trying to prove.

So when this new team, calling themselves, "Doom Patrol" (what the fuck kind of name is that? she had wondered) made their base of operations here, Jane was assigned to cover their adventures. She did her producer one better: it's more entertaining to discredit the hero rather than shower them with praise. And were there many opportunities. But those opportunities came to bite later on, as she was seen as nothing more than a muckraker of the sort that made Geraldo Rivera cringe. She hated her new reputation, but if she was going to go down a few pegs in journalism, she figured she might as well take a couple others with her.

"Dr. London", she began, already preparing the question she was going to grill the Ghostbuster with in her mind. "What do you say to a recent survey of the citizens of Philadelphia that property taxes have gone up 29 since the Ghostbusters have arrived?"

"Wha---?"

Robards smiled. She'd caught him off guard. After an event at Conan O'Brien a few years ago, she had learned that it was easier to interrogate this one than let the vampire hunter (whom her lead cameraman Mike was distracting) be interviewed. "Yes", she continued. "The highest tax hike in the last thirty years apparently. Most are saying that you are nothing more than glorified troublemakers."

"Well, I...uh..."

"And what about allegations that you end up _scarring_ more people than saving them. A little boy whose name will remain anonymous says he cannot go to sleep without thinking about how close he came to be eaten by a..." Robards stopped for a moment to stifle a laugh. "...A big bad wolf ghost?"

"Now wait just a minute! We saved that kid! I--I'm sorry if he can't go to sleep, but at least he's alive! Be thankful for that!"

"Is he now Dr. London? How would you like it if you found yourself entrenched in a soul-stealing nightmare about a black shadow that is coming to rip you to pieces, hmmm?"

"I'll handle this." CJ turned around suddenly to see Rob standing in the doorway of the Ecto-1M. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this interview Miss..."

"Robards. Jane Robards. We met before on the Conan O'Brien Show a few years back."

Rob pointed his finger. "Oh yeah, I remember you now. Weren't you on the Morning Show or something like that at the time?"

"I...found other career options." Jane could definitely see that this one was cleverly distracting her now, as Dr. London had gone over to get Andrew off of Mike the cameraman.

"I see." Rob nods his head with his arms folded, feigning interest. "You know, you really shouldn't be around a scene like this", he said, pretending to glance over his shoulder at the ambulance.

"And why is that?" Robards asked, a hint of offense creeping into her voice. But Rob just smiled back.

"I'm just saying, you never know if the ghost had any friends around. They could be dangerous."

"Mr. Statler, reporters have gone into the field of danger longer than your group's existence and we will keep doing so if it means getting the truth across to a populace that can name Jerry Springer and Home Delivery as their favorite television shows. We have faced bullets in Vietnam, snipers in Kuwait, and kidnappings in Iraq. I think whatever it is _you _have faced is less of a threat than...than…"

Andrew mumbles in the background, "waking up to your horse-face in the mourning?"

"What was that, Mr. Williams?" Robards asked; missing the insult Andrew threw her way.

Rob shrugged his massive shoulders. "All right", he said. "Would you mind backing up? The ambulance is getting ready to leave and we have to head on out. Some of us have legitimate work to do Ms. Robards?"

Salina had now stepped out of the ambulance, having made sure the kids were secure. She groaned when she saw the news van parked in the yard.

"Damn", she said underneath her breath, adjusting her glasses. Behind her, the ambulance was pulling out. And that was when she heard Jane Robards scream. Salina's eyes perked up for a moment to turn her head slightly. Standing where the ambulance had once been was a large, purple creature, it's fangs bared out at the group below.

She shook her head. She did not even have to be a detective to figure out the source. Had it been a real PKE reading, her meter would have gone off like crazy due to the massive size of the creature. But it was silent. She was positive she was not the only to notice that. Nor was she sure that she was not the only to notice Brian pretending to be asleep, even though he was moving his left finger. She walked over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hmmm?" he said, looking up, as though he had been napping.

"I think your acting skills need some work," she said smirking. Brian grinned back at her as he looked over at Robards and her crew. The cameraman, Mike, had long piled inside of the van, and Jane, backing away from the ghost that Rob pretended not to notice, found it difficult to find words to express the scene.

"I think this might be the cake on the icing", Brian said dryly. The creature opened its mouth, and bent down low enough so that it was level with Rob and was staring at Robards.

"_Boo_", it said. The color drained from Robards's face as Mike grabbed her, pushed her into the van, and started the ignition.

"Nice", Andrew said picking out the remains of what had been a tripod out of his hair. "So, how we getting paid anyway? The parents aren't home, and the guy who called us was a tech nerd."

"Well", CJ said looking at the remains of the Jackes's home, "I'd wager we'll be hearing from them soon anyway." He yawned and stretched. "Besides, that old guy down by the river still owes us for that job a while back so we gotta' collect from him."

"You mean that senile fisherman with the funky eyeball?" Rob asked incredulously. "No… hell no, Ceej! You know good and well he's gonna' pay us with fish."

"Well, we gave him two weeks and he said he'd have it." O

Chapter 2: Piper at the Gates of Dawn

"That should be them right now."

"Thank you."

The Ghostbusters's High-rise HQ was built underneath the Benjamin Franklin Bridge that connected commuters in and out of the city. Rob turned the car over towards an impasse that led off the bridge (but was off-limits to others) and towards their base. It was already late evening.

The High-rise itself stood three stories high, just about the same height as the Ghostbusters New York's original Firehouse, Hook and Ladder No. 8. Colored a distinct brown, the High-rise bore the familial No-Ghost logo on its wooden doors. Beside it was a garage for various modes of transportation. Rob could work into the endless hours of the day on projects that kept the team mobile.

Erin Cummins was standing outside as the Ghostbusters pulled up towards the garage. She was the team's secretary, a position that has had some of its less than interesting perks. But, the pay was decent and her employers were no less as decent.

"What up, Brown-Eyes?" Rob asked getting out of the car.

"You've had a visitor sitting upstairs in the library for a few hours now", she said. Then she looked over at Brian. "It's actually for him, but he was interested in meeting all of you."

A look of frustration crossed CJ's face. "Can't it wait till after dinner? I mean, we didn't stop at a drive-thru on the way here; it being late and all..."

"Just means we have to hold off on General Tso's Chicken until later", Rob said slapping his shorter counterpart on the back. Shaking his head, CJ handed Erin the Ecto-Sphere.

"Hard day I surmise?"

Flashback to CJ's facial expression as he and Statler crashed the Ecto through the Jackes's kitchen earlier

"You have no idea."

CHICAGO

Jenna Simmons could feel another presence around her as she walked away from the WGN radio station in North Chicago. She, along with her two friends from college, was one of the top Dee-jay's for the company and had successfully made 'J-love and Renee's Rap Top 40's!' a breakout hit on the airwaves; a radio show that had record producers elated with dreams of cash grandeur.

In fact, earlier that day, Michael McGrew, an executive of SIRIUS Satellite Radio, was attempting to broker a deal between the trio to bring 'J-love and Rene' to a wider audience beyond the localities of upstate Illinois. If things went well, Jenna knew, this could mean roughly $10,000,000 for all three of them annually; quite a leap from the paltry sum of $50,000 that WGN was paying for a relatively brand new show.

Simmons's footsteps reverberated throughout the empty parking lot. Though, while everything was going great for her, she began to feel an intense notion of anxiety. It was not the usual, paranoid thoughts that permeate through one's mind in the pitch black of night. She was experiencing a feeling of dread, as if something grim would soon occur.

She shrugged it off. When she was a child, her grandmother, an arcane Jamaican woman, would warn her of the mysterious ways of the world and beyond.

"Beware child", she had said. "Always keeps an eye a'lookn' for d'dark things. For they will consume you if you ignore them."

Jenna always believed the things her grandmamma would say were nothing more than fairy tales to scare little children.

But all the same, she questioned herself as to why she would be thinking of these things after so long? Perhaps it related to an incident in which her grandmother compelled her to undertake on her 18th birthday, long before she met J-love and Renee, the part of her past she kept secret from them. Something she felt no need to talk about; something she's tried hard to forget.

Simmons never saw the little red dot from a laser in the distance fixated on her back as she approached her Oldsmobile. She never saw the figure in the dark lick his lips hungrily as he aimed the outfitted Winchester. One which was now reformatted as an automatic weapon, the original muzzle replaced with that of a Soviet AK-78.

"Hey, brown sugar", he said tauntingly with a gravelly voice. She turned around, paralyzed in fear. She gasped and could barely let out a shrieking "No!"

Gunfire!

CHICAGO

"Come on now. Time to wake up."

Simmons felt something prod her in the side. She groaned slightly and tried to raise her hand to her forehead. She was shocked to discover that she could not. Her whole body was bound to a post; she was unable to escape.

Looking around, Simmons realized that she was not in the garage at all. Her new location was unfamiliar to her. It was completely darkened, save for a few objects that were visible by a faint light coming from another room. All around her, she heard what appeared to be machinery running. Was it some kind of factory? She wondered.

Suddenly, the light in the other room went out and Simmons was in darkness again. She heard footsteps walking towards her. They were not heavy, but rather calm and relaxed. Looking up, she thought she saw a shadow in the room, as the figure kept his face completely in the midst of the blackness. But she could faintly make out that his clothes were casual: a blue gingham shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her worries had begun to amass, pondering what he wanted with her and praying he that he wasn't a sexual predator.

The figure stopped walking. He was no more than about three or four feet away from her.

"Cigarette?" he asked, in very much the same gravelly tone that had gotten her attention when she was abducted. Simmons shook her head, trying to suppress tears. She could see the man shrug, as he stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He took a long drag before exhaling a trail of blue smoke. For a few moments, there was silence between them.

She cried, yet tried her best to keep her dignity, "What do you want with me?"

Finally, the man spoke.

"I know what's going through your mind", he said going over towards a dark corner. It sounded as if he had just pulled out a chair and was moving across the floor, back to where had been standing earlier. "To be quite blunt: yes, I am going to kill you."

Simmons fought hard against a whimper that was creeping in her throat.

"W--why?" she asked.

Another drag on his cigarette.

"Because", he said. "I need to."

"No you don't. You don't have to kill me..."

"You don't understand Ms. Simmons..." This caught Simmons off guard. He knew her name. He was not just some random stalker. He knew who he was looking for.

"You don't understand a goddamn thing."

Simmons heard him rise out of his chair and walk towards her again. He held out his hand. For a minute, Simmons thought he was going to kiss her. But instead, he reached for her neck and ran his finger along the length of her necklace. Finally, with minimal strength, he took it off of her. She noticed his hand had an odd tattoo on it: a pentagram enclosed in a circle. She had seen something like that only once before. Her eyes opened wide at the sudden realization.

"Using your powers won't do you any good here", he said, annunciating each his as if he were a schoolteacher. "This structure is protected by a powerful negation spell that disconnects the user from its source. Namely you. And, with someone who has not used their powers in such a long time, your need to focus all of your energy through this," He held up her necklace, as if studying it for a moment. It was an unusual piece of jewelry: a hunk of red ruby quartz that was strung to a length of hemp. And yet, Simmons had worn it for years. Not as a way of providing her dormant spiritual abilities with a conduit, but out of respect for the people of her grandmother's tribe.

"Well", the man continued. "Consider yourself fucked either way." He held the necklace high above his head in one hand. Simmons watched, shivering and wide-eyed as her captor crushed the necklace into powder. Instead of throwing it away, the man pulled a small pouch out of his pocket, pouring the contents from his hand inside.

"I can smell your anger in the air", he said as he went about what he was doing. "Shame, really there's nothing your pitiful will can conjure that will save your life. You probably would have been a dish to fight."

He paused, and then stepped toward her slowly…still keeping himself hidden within the darkness.

"…Or perhaps, if the circumstances were different…"

He sniffed her perfumed neck, then lowering himself to her cleavage.

"…just a dish for me."

Putting the pouch in his pocket, the man went back over to the dark corner of his room. He rummaged for a few seconds before finding what he was looking for.

Simmons saw that he now held what appeared to be a milk jug. He unscrewed the cap. A sweet smelling scent entered the room.

"I'd recommend you close your eyes", he said. Simmons had little time to fathom the meaning of the man's words as he tossed the content of the jug on her. Upon touching her skin, it felt cold as a chill ran up her spine. The man repeated this process with another jug.

"There. I think that's enough." He took a few moments to admire his work. "Sure you don't want a cigarette?"

"Why are you doing this to me? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT? I don't even know you!"

The man stopped lighting his cigarette for a moment to study Simmons. Blowing out another trail of smoke, he walked up to her.

"Yes, my dear", he said. "You do."

He bent down close to the woman, so that she would get a good look at his face.

"It's…it is you!" she screamed, attempting to push herself away from the man. Recoiling, he did not reply to this.

"The oils I have poured on you will automatically incinerate your body. There won't be much left as far as police evidence goes. That's a special gift from...another friend of mine who happened to be the Alter Boy at the Vatican."

"But aren't you afraid of burning this whole place down too?"

"Not really. If you look down at your feet", he said, pointing at a red seal on the ground, "I've completely secured the parameter. It will be like watching an isolated volcano."

The man took one last drag on his cigarette before he flicked it in Simmons's direction. She jerked up and down desperately…crying…struggling to run despite her inability to move. He turned his head to the side as the flames jumped upwards, engulfing her body instantly. Her shrill screams, as her flesh melted from her body, echoed throughout the structure. For a moment, the man wished he'd brought shades, as the light flared brighter and brighter. Gradually, the flames ebbed.

As he walked out of the room, he saw the Stout man standing. Waiting for him.

"After that is done", The Disciple told the Stout man, thumbing at the dying flames in the other room, "please put the ashes in the fireplace. And burn them again."

The Stout man nodded as the Disciple left the room. He wanted to follow, but he was transfixed by the image of the dancing flames, as he had been earlier that day. O


	2. Act 2

**Chapter 3: My Friend Who Died**

"Holy shit!" Brian said when he walked upstairs. "I can't believe this!" He was laughing.

Sitting in the upstairs library with his back turned towards the door was a slender young gentleman with combed back dark hair, no different from Brian's, except it was thinner and looked unhealthy. When he heard the mage enter the room, he turned around and grinned.

"Yeah it's me Tons-o-Fun", Jason Riddle said as he embraced Brian and patted him on the back. At first glance, Riddle appeared to be a rather unhealthy young man. His complexion was pale, as stringy dark hair hung in his face rather carelessly. He appeared to be the same age as Brian, and yet the lines that criss-crossed his face gave the impression that he was older.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that!", Brian said as he punched Riddle in the shoulder.

"Are we missing anything?" CJ asked as he poked his head in. "Otherwise, I could order Chinese."

"Nah, tell the guys to come on in!" Once all the members of the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol was in the room, Brian stood to the side.

"Guys", he said. "This is Jason Robert Riddle. We were roomates back in college and even studied together in Tibet for a little bit." He turned back to the young man. Riddle extended his hand. Both of his hands were gloved in dark leather, causing the handshake to feel rough and uneven, but still firm.

"Brian likes to overblow things out of proportion", he said. His voice was calm. "I didn't stay in Tibet long. I had other business to tend to at the time. Somehow", he said, a hint of a mournful tone in his voice, "I lost my love for the mystical arts." Brian laughed.

"Yeah right!" he said. "That old Fu said you had all the makings of a magus."

"Haggis?" Andrew asked raising an eyebrow.

"Magus", Riddle responded, " It's a meaningless title given to those who have mastered all forms of mysticism and magic in the known world. Just a load of crock really."

"Ah, I see. Well, it's evident really that your Brian's guest and we don't really want to push ourselves on your reunion. Come on guys, let's go feed CJ before he goes crazy."

"My stomach is already eating itself", CJ groaned. Rob and Andrew laughed as they closed the door to the library.

"There's a restaurant in Chinatown that you might want to check out", Rob said as they descened down the stairs. As they passed Erin, he asked her if she wanted anything back from General Tso's. She declined.

Once outside, Rob pulled Salina aside.

"Is it me", he said, "or did that guy seem really out of it?"

"I was getting that vibe too", she replied. "It's like...he was nervous about something. And what about that handshake? Did you feel how cold it was? I thought I was shaking hands with a skeleton."

"Metal", Andrew said.

"What?"

"That's what it felt like. Metallic. There is no hand there."

"How the hell do you know that, just by touch?" Andrew turned and faced her.

"My dad was in Vietnam. Got his right arm shot clean off during the Tet Offensive in '68. Everytime he put his hand on any of us, it felt like being touched by a can of Mashed Peas."

"That's...healthy for a child", Salina said.

"Yeah. Every Halloween he'd get the little Trick or Treaters by pulling that arm off", Andrw laughed.

"Charming."

The door to the library closed behind the two old friends. Inexplicably, the feeling of elation disappeared from the room once the two faced each other. Riddle's look flickered from Brian as he wandered around the room, trailing his gloved hand along the stacks of books. Brian studied these movements for a moment, and noticed, if only for a moment, that he had seen them once before, six years earlier. In Tibet.

"Something's wrong isn't it?" Brian asked sitting down on the couch opposite where Riddle had just been sitting. Brian looked down at the carpet and laughed silently to himself as he remembered the time CJ had overloaded a PKE meter and dropped it. It had melted itself onto the floor. Nobody had done anything really about it, but it did prove to be a bit in the way when someone was walking through the area.

Riddle looked up from the book he had just pulled down from the shelf. It was _Catch-22_ by Joseph Heller.

"Why do you ask?"

Brian sighed. "As glad as I am to see you man, most of my friends don't usually drop by after nearly six years just to say 'hi'. They usually send something telling me they're coming, you know? It's called _mail_."

Riddle laughed. "After all this time, I can say the thing I missed most about you was your witty sense of humor." He closed the book and placed it back on the shelf.

"That's not funny Jay", Brian said. "What do you really want?"

Riddle stuck a gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a ledger. He handed it to Brian.

"Here", he said. Brian looked at him quizzically as he opened it. Inside, there were newspaper clippings of various articles. However, their language ranged from Middle Eastern to Japanese.

"What the hell is this?" Brian said thumbing through them all. "You know I don't speak Spanish!"

"Sorry. I forgot how you never learned to speak foriegn languages. You really should learn one of these days." Riddle took the ledger back from Brian and pulled out one of the clippings. It appeared to be written in Chinese. "Do you remember Eddie Franklin?"

Brian thought on this for a few seconds. "The weird guy with the big glasses? Yeah, I guess."

"You remember how he moved to Beijing after his training?"

"Yeah. Look, what does all this have to do with..."

"He's dead."

Brian stopped talking and looked at Riddle, confusion on his face. "Dead?" was all he could say. An expressionless Riddle nodded.

"Yep. The Beijing police have ruled it as a suicide, as he was found in the Yongdong river. Or I should say his body flowed right into the city from the South."

Brian shook his head, the words still ringing in his head. Eddie Franklin may have been odd, but he was a kind guy who was always full of big ideas. Mystics wasn't his thing, but he still took it up to know what it was all about. Open-minded and intelligent, Franklin did not seem the type to kill himself.

Sitting himself down, he looked up at Riddle as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He offered one to Brian, who shook his head. Shrugging it off, Riddle stuck it in mouth and, pulling out at Zippo, lit it.

"Franklin's not the only one", Riddle said. "There are seven more from the Order that made headlines in the Obits. You have Cecilia Bones over in Thailand...they couldn't take a picture of her for the labs because the photographer kept getting sick."

"Why was he getting sick?"

"Ol Bonesy's entire stomach had apparently exploded all the way through the ground. It was like looking into a giant hole. You okay?" Brian had suddenly gone pale with the thought and held back a gag reflex. Getting up he went over towards the little refrigerator in the room and pulled out a glass of water and drank it.

"I'm fine", Brian said. "Just your details were a little too graphic. So...Franklin and Cecilia are dead? Accidents?"

"Ah!" Riddle said slapping the ledger. "That's what the police wants the general public to think. They don't see the connections."

"What connections?"

"These seven people were all members of the Order. You know Bones and Franklin, of course, because they studied with us. The others were members at one point in their lives. Take John Welles: prominent British aristocrat, lover of the fine arts...and a heart for black magic. A fire ravaged his entire home. He wasn't found, but the likelihood he survived is lower than Einstein's 4th grad math scores. He was also a member during the 1940s. Or", Riddle said flipping through the ledger until he found a new subject, "how about Stuart Potts? Strung up to a tree. It appeared it didn't kill him at first, but this little harpoon through the abdomen would definitely do the job. The Welsh papers actually have that picture of him hanging from that Fir tree."

"Please...stop..."

"You're beginning to see it now aren't you? Nobody just kills people to kill them. Not in this day and age. These people had one thing in common and that is that they were all members of the Order of Ra. And the reason I'm here is not to tell you gory ghost stories. I'm here to warn you."

Brian's eyebrow's shot up. "Warn..._me_? Why?"

Riddle sighed. "Haven't you been listening? There is somebody killing members of the Order of Ra. I said they weren't random; the murderer obviously knew who he was looking for and caught these people off guard. He knew how to isolate their powers and kill them. He knew..." Riddle stopped and took another long drag from his cigarette. "He even knew how to get into _my _head."

Whatever doubts Brian had moments before were cast out. Riddle had learned how to keep his mind shut from outside influences years earlier...it was one of the things that made him such a wonder pupil at that old monestary in Bangaladesh. By using his "brick wall" technique, nothing--and nobody-- could manipulate him.

And that was what Brian feared. No matter what monsters he had faced as a member of the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol, no matter what dangers he had put himself in, and no matter how many times he had faced death...he did not want to face the Riddle had to years ago, the one who nearly killed him.

"He came close to chipping away at me", Riddle said. "He was somewhere around me when I was in Turkestan looking in on a new case. It was dark and I know he knew that I could feel him. I could feel his aura swirl around me. I could hear his voice screaming at me...the bastard was laughing at me Brian. He was saying "_Come back Jason. We're all waiting for you. You know you want to._" And you want to know the fucked up thing Bri? I actually wanted to follow him." He looked over at Brian, whose face was expressionless. He now knew why Riddle seemed nervous. It went beyond the simple fear of dying.

"I swear to God, I don't know if he wanted to kill me too. I mean, what could I possibly do? I don't have even half the power I did years ago."

"He probably wanted you to deliver this message to me", Brian said softly. Now it was Riddle's turn to be confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Earlier today, we stopped a ghost from taking posession of a kid up in the suburbs. Before we toasted him, he took me some kind of dark void..."

"He used your shatterpoint against you didn't he?"

"Yeah. He was giving me all this stuff about how he wanted to talk to me. And then he said a funny thing. When I asked him what he was, he...he told me to ask you."

Riddle dropped his Zippo lighter on the floor next to the burnt PKE, his second cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Me? What the hell would a demon know about me?"

"I don't know", Brian said. He wanted to add _But I think you probably do_, but the emotion in the room was not proper to bring it up. The two of them stood there for a few minutes.

"How long are you in town for?" Brian asked.

"Doesn't really matter", Riddle said. "I'm mobile, remember?"

"That's right. If you want to stay here for awhile--you know, till I can figure out this whole thing--you can. I don't think the guys would mind."

"That's all right", Riddle said grabbing his coat off the couch. "I've got a place on the west side. Besides", he said grinning. "Who's going to be keeping an eye on you?"

Brian punched Riddle in the shoulder. "You don't have to go so soon. There's an extra car in the garage. You didn't meet the guys properly enough. Tso's isn't too far from here, that is, if you want to come along."

Riddle looked at him for a moment. Brian noticed that a tiny, almost infestimial glint sparked in his near-dead eyes.

"That would be good", Riddle said. "I haven't eaten since I arrived."

**Chapter 4: In The Flesh**

"So I'm standing there, looking down at the dumb bitch, and you know what he does?"

"What Tim?"

"He fucking starts crying! Can you believe that shit? A grown man starts blubbering like a little woman!" Tim Bondo took a long swig from his beer, trying to keep it from coming up his nose as he was laughing. He sat in a dimly lit bar in downtown Philadelphia, just one of many that are open the barfly republic after the godly hours have passed.

Bondo's friend, Vinny, takes a drink from his own mug. "What a pansy", he says, looking over his shoulder. His eye falls toward an empty pool table. He looks back at Bondo. "Up for a game, dude?" Nodding rather sluggishly (he was already 10 past his normal limit, but thought he could walk it off), Bondo rose from his stool and walked over towards the table. Grabbing a cue, he chalked it up as Vinny set the balls up.

Shooting the 6-ball with an English side-spin into the corner pocket, Bondo looked up for a moment as he cued up his next shot to see two others enter the bar. The first one was a tall, black-haired fellow, dressed in a blue leather coat. But it was the woman that came in after him that caught his attention...

"Damn", he said as he shot.

"I _really_ don't think we should be here", Salina said, eyeing the bar suspiciously as she walked inside. The dinging of the bell above the door unnerved her more.

"Why?" Andrew said, taking a stool at the front of the bar. "Hey keep!" he shouted at a bald-headed man with a walrus mustache at the far end of the bar. "Fix me up with a Heineken, and leave the water out of it." He turned back to Salina. "If you don't like it in here, Rob and Ced are still at Tso's place."

"That's not what I meant", replied Salina, now joining Andrew on a corner stool beside him. The patron next to her blew a gray-rimmed gust of smoke in the back of her head. She pretended not to notice.

"What did you mean then?" Andrew said, his beer being placed in front of him. He wasted no time in downing it. "Another", he said, slamming the mug down with enough force that a hairline crack appeared at the side

"Ya punk", the bartender said, taking the mug from him.

"I meant", Salina began. All of a sudden, she realized she didn't know what she had meant. She knew very well that bars breed danger, and, looking around, she was very much certain that this one would be no exception: she saw, at a far end of the bar, two guys already falling asleep in their beer mugs (one of whom looked as though he was the living dead); another patron, probably a homeless drunk, slept in a pile of old newspapers and rags in a nearby corner. She wasn't afraid of these miscrents, and Andrew knew this as well.

He was edging towards something that she did yet want to admit, to herself or even to _him_.

"Well?" Andrew asked again, this time with a smug look on his face. He was now on his third glass. As he began raising it, Salina was suddenly seized by a flash of anger as she popped the bottom of the glass, causing the beer to splash Andrew in the face.

"Dick", she said and walked off towards the ladies bathroom.

Andrew lingered there in his seat for a moment, the beer dripping from the tip of his pointed noise down his shirt and glasses. Behind him, he heard the patron who had blown smoke at Salina's back laughing silently to himself. He looked at the patron, his eyes lingering on the guy's double chin's jumping up and down as he laughed.

The patron did not see what happened next coming:

He recalled thinking how much of a jackass the guy in the heavy coat was, and how that sexy little number had basically destroyed every vestige of manly dignity he had. Then he went back to his drink.

The very next thing that happened was a bright flash of light, then darkness; this was followed by an intense throbbing pain in the side of his head.

Andrew stood over the patron, his right fist raised high. His eyes, primarily blue, had turned crimson.

"Hey!"

Andrew turned his head slowly to see the bartender with the walrus mustache pointing the blunt end of a Louisville Slugger baseball bat at him. Scrawled along the side, as if a knife had carved it, were the words "The Moderator". They stared at each other eye to eye for a few seconds.

"If ya wanna brawl," the bartender said, his voice calm, "take it outside. Otherwise, get the hell outta my place." Turning around to face him, Andrew noticed that the bartender's hand was shaking; not from the weight of the bat, but from fear. He extended his hand towards the bartender's mouth and took out the toothpick that had been dangling on the side of his mouth.

"That bothers me", he said in a gravelly voice and walked in the direction of the bathrooms.

The bar had stopped for a few moments to watch this scene unfold. As suddenly as things had slowed down, the patrons went back to their beers, poker games, and forgetting that they ever existed for a few hours. Vinny and Bondo too had stopped to watch.

"What the hell was that about?" Vinny asked. It was his turn now, as he cued the poolstick.

"Search me", Bondo said, taking a swig from his Budweiser bottle. "You gotta shoot at least five of yours to get close to me."

"Fifty says I do, and a hundred says I win", Vinny said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. Bondo's eyes lit up. Vinny grinned. "That's probably about the right amount to fix that two-wheeler of yours, ain't it?" Bondo's face quickly flashed red as a vein appeared in his head.

"Quit stalling and shoot the damn ball!"

Vinny smirked as he shot. He missed the 2-ball by several inches and hit a stripe, his attention fixed on the tall guy walking inside the bar. Someone had started up the jukebox. 'Black Sabbath' was playing, with Ozzy wailing over the speakers, _"What is this/That stands before me/..."_

Salina washed up as she stared at herself in the mirror. What had just happened, between her and Andrew, was a surreal moment. Something that she had never thought she was could do, or even think of doing.

_He had it coming_, she assured herself. But somehow she didn't quite believe it.

Andrew was as dirty, rugged, and above all uncouth as the day they first met. It seemed strangely a lot longer than the year and a half they had known each other, since that fateful afternoon when Andrew showed just how callow he could be by doubting her profession.

_He's an asshole, pure and simple_.

His personality bordered on something out a comic book: the swagger, the "me against the world" agenda. He didn't seem real.

_But perhaps you didn't even bother to understand him at all_.

Salina looked ruefully in the mirror at herself. There was a time, last year, when she had apparently had a chance to glimpse the real man behind Andrew...

It started as a simple case: a call out to the posh manor of wealthy Philadelphia socialite Walter Ruffin. His home had, apparently been seiged by a gang of disgruntled (and as Andrew was able to deduce, horny) werewolves, looking to satisfy their hunger with some of the guests that Ruffin was entertaining at his home that evening. Andrew had been the only member on active duty at the time; Salina had come down the stairs to see if he wanted some of the curry she was about to make as a midnight snack. Instead of letting him go by himself, Salina tagged along as backup. She had a fair to middling knowledge of lycanthropy, and thought she might be able to help.

"Suit yourself", Andrew had said, grabbing his proton pack and hopping in the driver's seat of the ECTO-1M. "Just watch your back cause I won't be able to protect you and fight the beasties."

"I can handle myself thank you very much", retorted Salina. The case proved a little more difficult than originally anticipated. The Wolves had basically caused several casualties, mostly staff as Ruffin and his guests found refuge in the ballroom, but it would not be for long. The Wolves were already breaking through. Thanks to information gathered at the Dalton case, CJ and Rob were able to calibrate the the proton packs to match the D.N.A. of a lycan. Although not ectoplasmic by nature, the protons would negatae their powers for a brief period of time, while Andrew did what he had to do with them.

It turned out that there were twenty-two of them; six were outside standing guard. Andrew was impressed with how organized they were, but it didn't last long. Salina's neutron beams neutralized them, laying each one on the ground within the span of less than a minute. Andrew wasted no time in relieving the poor humans within of their lycan husks. Inside, Andrew and Salina faced a remaining eleven on the way towards the main ballroom.

Salina was caught off-guard when she saw Andrew fall on his back. A wolf had punched him in the face, causing him to lose his concentration. Attempting to go over to help him, she felt a powerful hand grab her and lift her off the floor. Turning to face her captor, it was a Siberian Grey Wolf-hybrid. He smelt of blood and sweat. For a lingering few seconds (which seemed longer as Salina found herself paralyzed with fear--the wolf had removed her pack) they looked at each other face to face, the wolf snarling hungirly at her. Suddenly, Salina felt a swift wind cut across her face. The next second she looked, the wolf's head was gone, having rolled across the floor. The death grip still tight around her, she wriggled herself free, only to see Andrew breathing heavily, blood pouring from both of his nostrils, in a swordsman position she had only seen in Kurosawa/Mifune samurai films.

"I thought you weren't going to help me", she had said. She almost wished she hadn't, instead wanting to say something more grateful like "Thank you."

"Yeah, well...be careful next time. You're too good to be one of _them_." Before continuing on, Andrew made sure that the wolf had not scratched her in any way, noting the virus that courses through a wolf's body can be transferred through it's claws. Satisfied, he sheathed his sword and continued in the direction of the ballroom. Since that time, Salina had been regarding Andrew keenly, trying to figure out what he was. He had proven himself yet again months later when the GBDP faced a horde of ghoulish frogs at Upper Darby Middle School, saving a little girl from being crushed under some concrete. Those two instances showed who the real Andrew was...and the man he tried to be.

_God, has it really been that long_, she thought, still looking deep in the mirror. _He's an enigma, I'll say that much for him. One minute he's all psycho-badass, then he saves my life. It would have been alright if he said "What are friends for?". But he said "You're too good to be one of them." _

"Salina. I need to talk to you." Andrew stood in front of the Ladies bathroom door, his eyes staring down at his black combat boots. He breathed slowly, his breath blowing the strands of dark hair in his face listlessly.

No answer.

He knocked again.

"What do you want?" Salina answered, her voice muffled from behind the door.

"I want to talk to you."

Salina leaned with her back against the door. Her arms were folded. "So?" she said. Andrew grunted.

"_So_?" he repeated, his voice a little harsh. "Just open the door."

"Why should I?" Salina said. "So you can make fun of me some more?"

"No, cause I think the only other woman in this joint just downed one too many Red Bulls and she's gonna need this in about five minutes. Maybe four."

"You always got jokes don't you?"

"I'm just full of 'em." There was a silent beat for a few moments.

"So what do you want?" Salina said finally. "You haven't said that yet."

Andrew hesistated. Salina heard through the door a pounding sound, and grinned for a moment.

"I..." Andrew began. Somehow, he was finding difficulty conveying what he wanted to say in words properly.

"I didn't mean the way I acted earlier", he said. "I'm...I'm sorry if I made you feel..."

"Dirty?"

"I don't know about that, but I am honestly, and geniunely sorry. And if you please open the door, I'll... (more hesistation) We'll go out to that new 80's dance rink tomorrow night. I hear they've got Simon LeBon deejaying."

He heard the door slowly unlock. Salina cracked it open and peeked her head outside.

"I thought you hated Duran", she said. Andrew shrugged as he tried to supress his laughter. For some reason, being around Salina all this time, he forgot all about the promise he had made years earlier. Staring deep into her dark eyes, he felt, for the first time in a long time, human.

"Andy? Andrew?"

He snapped back into reality.

"What's with you?"

Andrew grinned.

"It's nothing", he said. "Nothing at all."

The final customers that this particular bar would have that evening (or ever have again for that matter) looked like this:

There were sixty of them in all, each one varying in height, possibly weight as well. Each one wore glasses so darkly dense, it was impossible to see the eyes beyond the lens.

The customers were dreses in matching camoflogue uniforms, with a black bulletproof breastplate covering their chests, giving off the impression to the other patrons that they may have been part of the R.O.T.C. war games going on at Camp Bailey. Their helmets were also covered in green camo. They lumbered up towards the bar, shuffling their feet a bit on the floor. The sole woman Andrew spoke of earlier, between slight bouts of sobriety, pointed at them and laughed.

"What'll ya be having?" the bartender with the walrus mustache asked as one of the Camos sauntered up to the bar. He did not answer. Through the sunglasses, he stared at the bartender with cold eyes that looked as if they were boring into his soul. The bartender squinted his own eyes to see his own reflection.

"Hey, Gomer Pyle! I'm talking to you!" the bartender repeated, this time reaching for the sunglasses, preparing to yank them off his face. He wavered for a few moments as he felt the hot stench of the soldier's breath upon the hairs on the back of his hand. He'd done this hundered of times before with drunks, and knew what spoiled air felt like. But this...this was different.

Suddenly, the man opened his mouth, revealing many rotten teeth. He lunged forward towards the bartender. Startled, the barkeep blocked with his right hand. The man wrapped his teeth around the flesh of the bartender, taking a bite out of it. The bartender screamed as the man crawled forward behind the bar, taking the bartender down to the floor with him. The only sound in the bar except Bruce Dickinson wailing "The Trooper" from the jukebox were the screams of the bartender. Then they ended just as quickly as they had begun.

Vinny and Bondo stared up at the scene with disbelief, Vinny's unlit cigarette falling from his mouth. They were not the only ones to watch the soldier rise from behind the bar, his uniform and mouth covered in blood. There was a bit of fat hanging from the side of his mouth. He raised something up to his mouth. From a distance, it looked like a chicken bone.

"Holy Helen of Troy!" someone shouted. "That guy's eating Brody!"

"You think Carl?" said his companion scrambling out of his chair, turning over the table in the process. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

It seemed as though this was the cue for the soldiers. The bar patrons were panicking, attempting to get out of the bar as the undead soldiers swooped down upon them, like vultures.

Andrew felt stupid for letting his senses become so dull that he did not pick up the situation that was happening.

"Dammit", he said through gritted. Salina noticed that his attitude had changed too.

"What's wrong?" she asked, generally worried.

"Don't you hear it?" he said. Salina realized it too. They had both been in their own world, ignorant to the fact that there were screams rising from the bar. They inched carefully towards a corner, to survey the situation. Salina grabbed her mouth as the scene became real before her: there were zombies in the bar. She watched as one of the patrons (the one who had blown smoke in his face) get pulled down to the ground by one of the undead soldiers, his leg being wholly devoured. She tried to block out his peircing screams by closing her eyes.

She felt Andrew's hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it out of here", he said.

"We haven't any proton packs on us", Salina said.

"And I left my katana in the car outside", said Andrew. He felt like punching himself in the face for not being better prepared for an attack like this. He had only several daggers in his pocket, enough to neutralize some but not enough to lay them all down for good, which was the preferred method of dealing with these things But there was something familiar about the patters, as he observed them. It was like he had seen this before, in another place.

Reaching for his Wi-Fi communicator, he quickly hoped that either CJ or Rob were within range or even had theirs on.

"Come in Robert", he monotoned. No answer. There was nothing but static. He tried again, this time calling for CJ. Again no answer on either side. Turning to Salina, he said:

"Line's dead. It's like "

"Teriffic."

"We're not dead yet. We'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. Ever see _Evil Dead_?"

"Not really."

"Just watch then and follow". Andrew walked from their hiding spot slowly, his boots echoing across the hall. There was murder, death, and chaos all around him.

He loved it.

At his feet he saw the bat the bartender had threatened him with, "The Moderator." Picking it up, he twirled it in his hands admiringly as he put it inside his coat.

**Chapter 5: Standing in the Shadows of Darkness**

Bondo felt a little bit sick as he punched one of these dead...things as he thought. _Feels like hitting raw meat_, he thought to himself.

"Tim! What the shit are these things!" Vinny yelled, defending himself with a broken pool cue. He stabbed one of the Inferi. in the eye, the cue itself going through the socket and out the other end of its head. It was no use. He had missed the brain by several inches.

"How the hell should I know!" Bondo shouted back, laying another one on the ground. He had placed a haymaker upon its chin, breaking its jaw. Bondo suddenly found himself surrounded by five of the things, all crawling and clawing at him. He kicked at one of them, knocking his boot into its face. He saw Vinny get overpowered by just as many himself, his friends screams of "HELP!" not going unnoticed. Vinny was a goner, Bondo knew, and he was going to end up zombie shit himself in a few moments if he didn't do something about it.

"Get off me you damn dirty...whatevers!" Bondo shouted, trying to crawl his way back up towards his feet. One of the Inferi had managed to crawl their way up to his face, it's mouth wide open.

:**:_Spppplat!_:**

The blood of the Inferi hit Bondo's face as if it were water. Beside his head, he saw the wooden hilt of a Meiji era dagger embedded in the floor, as the Inferi fell to the ground in a lump. He noticed that the others were sliding off of them. Then he saw the guy with the dark hair who had walked in earlier, right before all this began. He saw the guy was smiling, as if he were enjoying. Producing a bat from his coat, he beat the closest one to his shoulder, knocking it's death out before using the blunt end to dent the zombie's skull in. The bat was just a minor tool to him, Bondo noticed. He used hand to hand combat to fend them off, picking one up off its feet and hurling it facefirst at the jukebox.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked, sliding up towards his feet, after the guy had dispatched the last of the Inferi that had been on Bondo. He had done a sweeping motion with his hand, severing the Inferi's head from it's body.

"Andrew Williams", Andrew said. "Ghostbuster." He looked over in Vinny's direction. "Your friend's dead it looks like."

Bondo tried not to look, but had to remain tough. Straightening his jacket, he pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. "Right, so I know how to kill these things."

"They're already dead, Brainchild", Andrew said sarcastically. He watched as Salina joined the fight. She had not been totally unprepared, having brought along her Proton Staff. She managed to rescue the drunk woman from before (that Andrew had mentioned) by scissor-kicking an Inferi to the ground, pinning him there with her staff.

"Hey, I ain't stupid smartass!" Bondo said, interrupting Andrew. "I know they're dead. But they can be killed again."

"Not like this", said Andrew in a low voice. It was almost guttural. He looked down at the ground. The Inferi were already reforming their lost limbs. These were regenerators.

Bondo noticed this too and stepped back a bit. "Holy shit!" was all he could say.

"How you doing over there Sal?" Andrew said, ramming another dagger into an Inferious soldier's face. Salina held up her staff as another zombie attempted to attack. It instead wrapped it's teeth around the staff as Salina kicked it in the abdomen.

"Just fine, but can you try CJ and Rob again?"

Andrew had a feeling that this was all to organized. Inferi were a different level of the Undead. They were still mindless drones, but, under the proper spell, can be used for any means or gain. And the fact that his Wi-Fi channel had been blocked was further proof that this was part of a much larger plan.

"Here", Andrew said, handing Bondo his dagger. "Mine's bigger."

"Fuck you", Bondo said, putting his switchblade in his pocket. Andrew jammed his boot through the chest of another Inferi. _Damn_, he thought. _The more we put down, the more that seem to come up. Where is CJ and Rob?_ Getting a split second to free his hand, Andrew pressed a red button on his Wi-Fi. He was then grinning. It was a long shot, but it was worth the try.

"What's funny?" Bondo asked, slitting the throat of an Inferi.

"The calvalry should be joining us shortly", Andrew replied. _I hope_.

"Funny", Rob said. He was sitting alone at the table inside of General Tso's. CJ had gone off to indulge in the buffet or ogle the Asian waittress. Whichever one. Rob found both scenario's funny.

He was staring at what looked like an EMF dectector mixed with a shoe-polish remover at first glance. It was the Ghostbusters main mode of ghost detection, the Psycho-Kintetic Energy meter, PKE meter for short.

"What's that about?" CJ asked returning to his seat.

"Remember that case file I read where the meters can act as a sort of blood tracker for humans?" Rob said showing CJ.

"Yeah", replied the scientist, gnawing on a peice of Chinese rib. "Weaker readings though, less than 100. We ended up putting in our own D.N.A. patters in it, just in case something happened to us. Why you ask?"

"I've just picked up a reading. Heh, you'll never guess from who?"

"Elvis?"

"Andrew."

"That is surprising. He didn't even like the idea." Wiping his mouth, CJ picked up his Wi-FI from his belt. "Andrew, come in Andrew. What's the gag?" Nothing but static. "Come in Andrew, you poseur." Again, static. CJ and Rob looked at each other for a moment.

"He doesn't joke around you know", Rob said rising from his seat. "Where'd he say he and Salina were going?"

"To the bar next door", CJ replied. He looked around for a waittress. "Check please!"

Once outside, the two Ghostbusters made their way over to the bar, where Andrew's reading had been emitting from. Rob grabbed the handle. It was locked. "Whoever heard of a bar locking up this early?" he said.

"Hold it, did you hear someone screaming?" CJ said. Rob put his ear against the door.

"God almighty, it sounds like there's a massacre going on!"

"What's going on?" Rob and CJ turned to see Brian walking up towards them, his hands in his pocket. His friend, Riddle was behind him.

"We got a PKE reading from Andrew just now", Rob explained. "Something big's going down in there. And it doesn't sound good." Brian walked up closer to the door. He could already feel the evil aura the emanated from it.

"This whole building's been tainted with death", Riddle said. Everyone around him was surprised, not by the revelation but that he had come to that conclusion without getting close to the bar. "There's Inferi in there."

"What are those?" CJ asked.

"Zombies of a lower class", Brian explained going over towards the ECTO-1M. Opening the back door, he pulled out a rack that revealed three proton packs. Attached to the rack was a sheath. "A reanimatinon spell brings them back to life, but the spellcaster can make the dead his slaves if he wanted to."

"Why would zombies be here? In this city?" CJ said strapping on his pack. "They usually infest New York."

"Got no time to wax philosophy", Rob said, charging his pack. "Heat em up."

"We gotta hurry though", Brian said. "Inferi have a real funny ability of pulling themselves together after they've been chopped."

_This is insane_, thought Salina as she rammed her bow into the skull of another undead Inferi. The atmosphere around her was thick with the stentch of death. She rescued one more barfly, a man named Zolf, who was crouched in a corner defending himself with a broken leg from a stool. Standing over the remains, she watched in disbelief as the Inferi (it's head had been severed from its body) gathered itself together by fusing the ruined columns of its spine back together again.

"What the hell...?" she said. She looked around her. _What kind of a bar is this without any windows?_ she thought, thinking of a way to rescue the surviving patrons. Then her direction was turned towards the man Zolf, who had been sniveling in his corner, his arm covering his face so that he had not seen that he had been rescued. Salina noticed from his clothes that he was a detective. She also noticed he was armed.

_Good thing he didn't realize he had a gun, God only knows what kind of panic he could have caused._ Picking him up by his collar, she slung him over her shoulder. She looked over to the other side of the bar. Andrew seemed to have the situation under control for the most part, although she could see the frustration in his eyes at the fact these zombies refused to die again.

Andrew did not waste any time sitting in one spot. Moving to another end of the bar, he broke the nose of a zombie and gouged the eyes out of another one. Suddenly, Andrew felt everything around him explode; dust and wall and debris were scattering everywhere.

"This is a raid, everybody freeze!"

Andrew grinned, looking for Bondo.

"Backup?" was all Bondo said, slamming his fist into a zombie's face. Andrew nodded as he saw the first proton stream sail towards a group of the undead soldiers, neutralizing their brain activity, causing an automatic shut down of their faculties. They were dead again.

"Next time Andy Panda", retorted CJ as he handed Andrew his pack, "go to O'Kane's. The crowds a little more savory."

"Thanks for the advice", Andrew replied strapping on his pack. Over to the other side of the room, Brian surveyed the situation that surrounded them, then turned his forward attention toward Riddle. He remembered solmenly the conversation that they had had earlier in the Highrise: Riddle had been the most powerful mage in their group. And then suddenly it was all taken away from him. He often wondered what that might be like for his pride.

However, his attention was divereted back to the dead around them. He had thought, from prior experience, that an overload of the electrical impluses to the brain would cause a fatal stroke, killing the zombies. It had worked before, back in Dalton, after all. Here, he could not believe his eyes as the zombie rose again, smoke billowing from its nostrils.

As the members of the Doom Patrol went about their business, Riddle walked solmenly towards the middle of the room. The survivng patrons of the bar escaped through the hole that Rob had blasted. Before leaving, Bondo looked back at these Ghostbusters.

He honestly could not imagine people willing to end their own existence to save others. But then again he didn't really care as he ran over to his Harley. He was gonna get out of this city right now.

"You guys", Salina said as she trotted over to Rob, Andrew, and Riddle. "We can't let those things out into the city. Especially not since they've got a god-mode on their side."

"I might be able to do something about that", Riddle said taking off his gloves. His left hand was normal, if not paler than the rest of his body. But his right hand was, as Andrew had deduced, mechanical. Rather, he was moving it with the ability of a normal, fleshy hand.

Sensing that everyone was now seeing his deformed limb, he laughed. "You actually get used to it after a while." He looked over towards Brian. "Any chance you still know how to summon your chi into a protection shield?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard."

"Good."

Riddle took a marker out his pocket and began drawing on the surface. What he drew was an odd circle with what looked like the Star of David in the center. "Could use that shield about now", he said, looking up. He saw the remaining horde of zombies beginning to descend upon the group. Brian closed his eyes as he muttered under his breath an incantation. A blue mist surrounded the six people.

"Make sure you transport everybody outside now B."

"Jay, what are you about to do?" Brian asked. Riddle grinned as he placed his hands on the circle. Suddenly, the building began to rumble, as the group was transported outside of the bar, the rafters collapsing upon the remaing zombies, trapping them inside

"I don't fucking believe what I'm seeing." Detective Wyatt Madison of the 7th Precinct stood on the side of the street, staring at what was once a large building. Now, where it had been, was a space between the two buildings. The ground where it stood was blackened. His partner, a young rookie named Keaton, got out of their squad car with him. "What do you think happened here?" he said, asking the senior detective.

Madison did not answer right away. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter.

"You're new here right?"

"Yes sir."

"Then it's time you met the Ghostbusters." Keaton had a confused look on his face as Madison made his way towards an ambulance. He frowned when he saw the two Ectomobiles parked next to the ambulance. _I could have been in the FBI or the CIA_, he thought to himself as he approached the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol. Two of them, CJ and Salina, had their PKE's out, surveying around the site.

"Yeah, this place was defintely touched by a large paranormal entity", CJ said checking his readings. "The meter's bordering on 200 now!"

"A thing like that would have to be close to River of Slime levels", Rob said rubbing the back of his head.

"Not so much a thing, Rob", CJ said. "It could be a demon...or even a human under a profound magical influence."

"Evening boys", Madison strolling up to the team.

"Evening to you too detective", Rob said. "If you're wondering what the hell happened here..."

"Oh no", Madison said sarcastically. "I'll find out sooner or later. Since I'm out here though, I thought I might tell you guys something that might be interesting."

"What's that?"

"When I was called about 'zombie soldiers' in the area, I remembered that we'd gotten a call from Washington two weeks ago about the missing remains of over one hundred Gulf War vets who were on their way home for military burial."

"How does the Army lose that many corpses?" Salina asked.

"I don't know. If somehow these soldiers you encountered tonight were part of the missing group, then I suppose..." He never finished his sentence. A scream permeated the air. Keaton, the rookie, was on the ground near the smoldering remains of the bar. His feet had been gripped by two hands. Slowly, a burned corpse was crawling out from underneath the ashes. Half its face was burned off, the flesh melted and deformed. Andrew jumped into action: once the corpse had revealed itself, he brandished his blade and, with terrifying quickness, severed it's head from its body. Keaton backed away, frightened by the sight.

"What...who...how?"

"That only leaves 'when' and 'where'?" CJ joked. Walking over towards the body (Andrew held the head in his hands), he pulled the corpse out. The torso was all that remained. Keaton turned away, covering his mouth in sickness. "Stretcher please", he said, looking at the EMT's.

Brian stood away from the scene, standing with Riddle, who was enjoying a drink from a flask he had brought.

"How long have you been able to do alchemy?" Brian asked.

"Why? Surprised?"

"Not so much as I never thought you'd take it seriously enough to attempt to learn it."

"I may be impotent", Riddle said, "but my thirst for knowledge has never been diminished."

"Right."

(_Brian_)

Brian heard the voice in his head. He chanced a glimpse to look around with his eyes.

(_Soon Brian_. _Soon_.)

"Let's get back to the guys", Brian suggested. "Something looks interesting over there."

The Disciple licked his lips hungirly as he emerged from his shadowy hiding place. _So that is where you disappeared to Riddle_, he thought, pulling the brim of his hat down lower upon his face. Walking away from the scene, he did not need to interrupt the Ghostbusters Doom Patrol's rejoicing in their small victory. Today had been a test. It had proved two of his theories.

Tomorrow, Hell would reign.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Act 3

**Chapter 6: Who Watches the Watchmen?**

"Does it bother you that you're breaking several laws right now?"

CJ grinned as he looked at Erin. The two of them were standing in the basement lab of headquarters. It was nearing 4 a.m. After everything that had happened in the last few hours, sleep was the last thing on anybody's mind. Earlier, a child had been possessed by a demon, which is a common occurrence on the job. But an out of the blue attack at a local pub by a horde of Inferi, an advanced form of zombie, had left the team baffled.

The young scientist paced around a stainless steel examination table, tracing his finger along its edge. Sometime after the chaos, he inconspicuously managed to pull the torso of a dead soldier from the wreckage of the bar that was obliterated during battle. Destroying Inferi proved difficult until Riddle performed a type of alchemic spell that caused a cave-in of the establishment, burying the zombies and burning the ground so that escape weren't feasible. The Philadelphia Police ordered two construction crews to unearth the remains, which constituted of just that: heads, torsos, arms, legs, or less than that.

Wearing a butcher's smock and a pair of Ecto-Goggles on his head, CJ pulled on a pair of examination gloves about to perform an autopsy on the corpse. "Well, you've always said you wanted to learn a little bit more about the biz", he joked, as he poked the petrified body with his scalpel.

"Yeah", Erin said. "But stealing the corpse of a serviceman in the middle of the night from a crime scene?

"There was no dogtag present, so he's open game", CJ reasoned, thumbing over towards a jar on a shelf containing the dismembered head of the deceased.

"I take it you're not much of a God-fearing man", she asked.

"Mom's a Catholic, but we never went to mass. Why?"

"Just wondering."

He pulled the goggles over his eyes.

"Anyway", he said, "the last batch of zombies that attacked us in Dalton were manipulated under someone else's power. Brian believes the same method was used to control guys like this poor soul on the table. So, as Sherlock Holmes would say, the improbable solution would inevitably end up being your correct one."

"And what would that be?"

Having pulled the formaldehyde jar from the shelf, CJ unscrewed the lid. Seeing the look of apprehension flash across the secretary's face, he said "It's all right. I had Brian put two whammy's on it, so it's positively, undeniably, dead." Holding it as he would a football, he placed it on the table.

"As I was saying, the last time we faced zombies, they had a highly advanced form of nanotech lodged into what was left of their brains, giving whoever was pulling their strings complete and utter control. However..." He peeled back a flack of skin from behind the ear. "As you can see, no nanobots are present between the occipital lobe and the cerebellum. Now take a look at this." Using the scalpel and his fingers, CJ showed a rather large chunk of flesh over the front of the dead man's head. Erin traced the chunk with her fingers. She looked slightly green.

"Gross", she winced. "What is that? A tumor?"

"I thought it was too, but the x-rays I took prove otherwise." He handed Erin a black strip of film of the x-rays. She looked at it confused. "I see you don't get it either", He said, pointing the growth on the man's skull. "It's almost Trekkian in execution."

"Trekkian?"

"In _Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan_, Khan got control of Chekov and Captain Terrell by putting alien slug creatures known as Ceti Eels in their ears. They wrapped themselves around Chekov and Terrell's brains, putting them under Khan's control. The aliens themselves had a devastating tragedy, in that they fed off their host, killing them slowly."

"Um…ok."

"I have the DVD if you want to watch it sometime. It's quite interesting"

"No thank you, I can do without", Erin smirked. "So what is that growth?"

"I want to say that it's like the space slugs", CJ said pointing to the growth. "If I'm lucky, they may end up being an unknown mollusk."

"A worm that reanimates the dead", Erin said. Her words, CJ noticed, dripped disbelief. "Why would that be lucky?"

"First dibs on Nobel prize material", he smiled. But, it's not that farfetched. If supernatural poultry can turn Dr. Spengler into a Werechicken, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that someone has discovered a way to reactivate the dead through _Phylum Annelida_."

"I know I shouldn't laugh and no disrespect to Dr. Spengler, but that sounds so cartoonish."

CJ cocked an eyebrow.

"So, you're saying that somehow these earthworms were implanted into the soldiers?"

"What strikes me as odd, just as I mentioned, is that this man–or any of the men–were not wearing their dogtags." Taking his gloves off, he gazed at the corpse. "My dad used to be Army Intelligence, and I can't remember not being surrounded by military personnel throughout my life. They always had at least some form of identification. The tags serve as a rundown of that soldier's identity: name, rank, blood type, or anything of the like should he or she be captured or killed."

"Without it", Erin said, "he's just another unidentified corpse."

"Exactly. Now, why would military intelligence send back over six-dozen bodies without their identification?"

"Just because this one didn't have a tag doesn't mean that the rest of zombies didn't have any. It might have got lost during the fight."

"I doubt that. Salina and Andrew didn't see any ID's or tags on them either. There must have been a clerical error in Washington that ordered the removal of the tags."

"It doesn't work that way," she replied.

"Then if it's under the command of high-ranking officials, like the Joint Chiefs of Staff; they'd have to make that call, right? So, why would they make such a tall order", CJ wondered while leaning against the table. "It doesn't make sense."

Erin stared for a moment, exchanging glances between CJ and chancing looks at the dead man. "Maybe it didcome from the Joint Chiefs. If the person who performed the autopsies found it unusual, being an army doctor, they had to follow protocol and remove the dogtags. He must have kept the files on the soldiers, but destroyed the tags."

CJ remained attentive. "I'm following you. Go on."

"Now, let's say that this same doctor still has his files on record. What would the odds be that his report still has a wealth of information, such as names, dates...the name of the rogue military advisor?"

"There's a slim chance", CJ said. "But the odds would be really high. To obtain that report would take larceny on a grand scale, not to mention official access to confidential files and entry to the database where it's held. We'd be indicted on a myriad federal charges."

"And 'borrowing' a corpse beyond a police barricade isn't illegal, Dr. London?" Erin feigned innocence in her assessment.

CJ cracked a sly smile. "I stand corrected. Fine, you've hooked me. Now where to look?"

"Pennsylvania's FBI branch is in Independence Hall", Erin replied. "The offices are being repainted this week

"And you know this how" He asked.

"It was noted in the newspaper yesterday. People will be roaming in and out. It'll be easy; we won't get noticed. If we're lucky, half the rooms will be closed off to the public."

"Okay, that settles the where. I can probably take on the how."

"There's a painter's store up the block," She said.

"Isn't it closed by this time of day?"

"Don't worry, I'll handle it," She smiled. "I have my methods."

Erin saw CJ's expression fell grim.

"So it's just me and you?"

"It's gonna' have to be. I'd really rather not bring the others into this right now. There's no need to wake them up now; we've all been through enough as it is. So, are you with me?"

"CJ, I need to get out more. This would be the best date I've had in…"

"In?"

"Let's just leave it at that."

CJ took off his smock and grinned and then wheeled the torso out of the way. "I'll be upstairs", he said, after putting the head back into its container, leaving Erin standing in the middle of the room. "And by the way, we're taking your car."

"No, wait, CJ…"

**Chapter 7: Angelus**

In another room, Rob Statler wasn't able to sleep. Much like his two co-workers, he'd found the excitement of the previous night nerve-wracking. Hunched over an old workbench that he'd bought in Stratford, New Jersey, he'd been dexterously toiling on a redesign of an old project.

Inspiration came to while watching TV during a slow day at the shop. The ECU was working fine and there wasn't any paperwork. He wondered whether or not the outdated Wi-Fi communicators that the group used would one day fail during a mission.

Boredom crept in until he saw a commercial advertising the Harris-Comm Sidekick II. He thought nothing more of it until now. Last night's events made him remember that commercial. His thoughts wandered as the tweezers in his hands poked and prodded the gears inside a rectangular silver object. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow as he connected wires into the back panel of a miniature monitor. He rubbed his eyes, starting to feel exhaustion in the late hours of the morning. His best work was done alone. The device was nearly finished, save for adding a few more parts and a battery component. As he neared the completion of his machine, heremembered what made him leave home after he got his life together and joined the service. From Camden, New Jersey, across the world, and back. Life had come full circle for the stoic Doom Patrolman.

"There's never any sleep in Mr. No-Ghost's crib is there?" Rob turned around at the sound of his nickname. Brian stood in the middle of the doorway.

His muscles loosened, as he concealed his expression of forlorn nostalgia from his friend. "No one's called me that in a while." he said, while wiping his hands on a cloth as the pleasantness returned in his tone of voice.

"Couldn't sleep, you know?" Brian replied looking around the workshop. "Didn't know if you'd be down here." He stepped into the light holding two bottles of Budweisers. "Thirsty?"

"Thanks", he said, taking one of the beers. Rob cracked the top open with his bare hands and drank 3/4 of the bottle before Brian had a chance to blink.

"Hit the spot."

"Yeah, I can tell." Brian's eyes then leered towards the workbench.

"Just something I began last week and re-started a little while ago." Rob said, noticing Brian's sudden interest.

"What is it?"

"After what happened last night in the bar, I decided to upgrade our communicators." Rob lifted the lightweight object in his hand. It lay in the center of his palm. " I've never mentioned this before, but I visited Gallaudet University when I was stationed in D.C. for a short time. While there, I noticed how dependent the deaf community was on pagers and TTY systems. As addictive as they are for casual use, they're also handy in tight situations. I built my own as a prototype to replace our communicators for compact mobility.

"What's that at the front of it?" Brian asked while opening the latch.

"That's the digital screen. It's not like a video screen, like you see with most of today's cell phones, but it's sort of like the ones used in Closed Captioned movies."

"Where's the keyboard?"

Rob grinned. "There isn't one. That's the beauty of it. The system is voice-activated."

"Dick Tracy V2.0."

"From what Andrew told me, it seemed like the Wi-Fi's signals were blocked by a rogue agent. While CJ and I were eating dinner down town, there was an interference prohibiting us from getting in contact with he and Salina. Since the communicators weren't malfunctioning and you mentioned before that magic may have blocked the signal, what type of power could distort a radio transmission?"

"Elementary magic", Brian replied. "A basic spell like that could block any signal within a five mile radius."

"That's some serious shit."

"Yeah. What you really want to know is how powerful the _person_ was who conjured it. Magic itself can leave a certain ectoplasmic residue in the air."

"Is that a fact? CJ's readings confirmed that there was an immense surge of PKE within the vicinity. And from what I hear, other than you, the only person around that could produce something like that is your friend, Riddle." Rob said as he turned around to put the new communicator back on the workbench.

Brian almost choked on his beer; Rob didn't notice.

"Brian, if there's something you should tell us about Riddle, now would be the time."

Brian lowered his head. "You're right," he sighed.

"For a sorcerer, knowledge is corruptible. Material possessions and wealth pale in comparison to achieving a level of power that most people can not comprehend."

Rob sat down on a leather chair with his arms folded, reclining against the bench as his curiosity piqued. "So, I gather Jason became one of the corrupted?"

"You weren't there, man. You had to see it", Brian said. "Jay's whole thing had always been to augment his abilities to become better than any other mage alive. You heard him say earlier that he thought the title of a mage is meaningless? There was once a time when that's all he cared about. He obsessively spent weeks searching every curio shop in Tibet, Beijing, Shanghai, and the Ryukyu Islands to find books or scrolls that would teach him whatever he needed to know to reach that zenith."

"But, one day he finally went over the edge; I remember it well." He laughed nervously. "He wanted me to go with him to Hokkaido to find another one of his cherished books; I teased him calling them 'dusties. It took us a day and a half to reach the mainland. When we arrived at a store that held the only copy of his book. Jay got into a heated argument with the shopkeeper. He'd been there before looking for a book written by Donte Mezzuchelli. The Mezzuchelli manuscript, _The Fountain_, was written back during the time of Spartacus. The author was burned at the stake for promoting witchcraft. For whatever reason I forgot, the keeper banned him from ever coming back. He never told me the full story on that.I would ask him, but he kept quiet about it. The book was important to him. For lack of a better word, Jay was stubborn and returned anyway. "

"The owner was a magician; he loathed Jay, so much that he scorched the floor around him to scare him away. His persistence overshadowed his fear. I'll never forget the tension between those two as they stared cold at each other. Jay's eyes were dark and listless. The longer the scene transgressed, the less I recognized my friend. Then, the owner raised his hand, leered at me and snapped his fingers. A second later, I stood on the outskirts of the shop confused. I was teleported out of the building into the street. I stepped forward wanting to be let back in, but the keeper mounted some sort of telepathic shield that blocked my away. It grew quiet; too quiet. I squinted, trying to make out what they were doing through the store window from the other side. Then the silence ceased, because a moment later, without warning, the building combusted into a million shards. I covered my face to avoid the ricocheting debris. When I opened my eyes, I looked up and saw the shopkeeper hovering 70 feet in the air in a vice-like grip. Jay did it. His hands were behind his back, as he stood in the center of where the store used to be. The keeper was petrified in intense, silent pain. Jay then turned around and remembered I was still there in the distance. He picked up his book, and said it was time to leave."

"What happened to the shopkeeper," Rob asked.

Brian imbibed the last of his beer. He extended his arm, letting the bottle drop as it shattered on the floor.

…

On a night where it seemed that no one could sleep, Jason R. Riddle sat alone in an apartment on the west side of town. The window shades were drawn, so that no light could escape in. He stared at his gloveless hands and studied them as though it were the first time he'd seen them. His left hand was scared. A gash along his palm from when he foolishly caught the edge of a katana in Tokyo ran a long a torrid path from his middle finger down his forearm until it ended at the end of his elbow. The tip of his smallest finger was missing, due to another accident involving a chef's knife. The flesh between his forefinger and thumb was stitched as a result from a fateful meeting with a blade long ago.

Then there was the right hand...

Riddle sat back for a moment and reached for a pack of Newports lying on the mantle beside him. He did not pull anything out of the box. Instead, he turned it over observing it as he ruminated over the past. Life and death are in the power of the tongue, but true power lay in the hands.

Brian…

…

Rob rubbed the stubble behind his chin and surveyed his stout friend.

"How does a man like that live with himself?"

Brian shrugged. "I don't know, but after that I kept him in close watch. When we returned home, he challenged our teacher in defiance. Matters only got worse from there.

Rob finished the last of his beer. Brian could feel his stoic glare pierce through the dim lit room.

"The expression on your face tells me you're wondering why I trust him after telling you all of this", Brian said.

"The thought crossed my mind."

Brian sighed. "Because, I have a feeling that I'm meant to…even after what I had to do to him.

"I found him standing over Master Gen's body, his neck was snapped clean. He knew I was there when he heard me enter the sanctuary. It was as though we faced each other for the first time. I realized just how far he had fallen from grace and was not the same man I once knew. His became cold and unfeeling. He said it had to be done, that he had to kill our Master for his insubordination. He believed Gen was unfit for his authority and had purposely held us back. For that, he deemed it necessary to kill him. Jason swore that he was meant to rule the world of magic and act as the supreme mage. He was out of his damn mind. At that point, no one could stop him; I knew if I acted against him, he could kill me. I broke the middle finger of my left hand when I lunged forward and decked his jaw. We fought hard. I got the wind knocked out of me when he returned the notion. He was too strong and knocked down. I didn't bother getting up for a few seconds. He then walked forward and lectured me on what he believed was true power. I didn't care to listen to the rants of a mad man. When he grabbed my head, I pushed his arm away and blinded him with a bright flash of my own manifestation. The saturation burned his retinas. When the chance came, I did something that I still regret to this day."

"There are a series of spells called the 'Forbidden 7', that no wizard, should he learn them, ever perform them on another human being. Each one has the power to mutilate, dismember, paralyze, and kill a person in the most terrible way imaginable."

Brian's voice quivered, as he found it difficult to speak. His eyes watered as he continued the story, though some parts were left out because there were certain facets that he couldn't bare to express to his friend.

_"You can't stop me." Riddle said stepping back._

_"How could you, man," Brian asked. "The Master loved you like his own son. He only wanted the best for us."_ _His eyes never diverted from the still body of their slain Master. Brian's heart sank. _

_"You are so fucking naive Bri."_

_"Jaso–?"_

_"No! You never understood. This was all just a game for you. Look at yourself. You came to us wanting to learn magic tricks because you thought it was cool. You live in your pathetic little comic book world idolizing your hero Doctor Strange? You're a joke. You're a fat, fucking joke. This is the really real world, son. I've lost respect for you a long time ago. We could never be friends. Who do you think you are to challenge me? I'm Jason Riddle dammit! I am your superior. I AM YOUR GOD!_

_" What the hell are you talking about?"_

_Riddle grinned, "I'm talking about **true** power! Absolute and unequivocal power! It's all that matters, all that we should reach for. Gen didn't have the intestinal fortitude to seek it."_

_"You've crossed the line, Riddle. You're insane!"_

_"Am I? I tried to change Brian. I really did. I wanted to go back to that same ignorance that marked me like the blood of Abel. But, I'd rather reign in hell than serve in heaven. If I have to make Earth my personal hell, then so be it!"_

_He unleashed a bolt of lightning at Brian's chest that engulfed him in a lasso. He pulled him forward and grabbed his neck. Riddle clawed his fingers into his flesh as Brian winced in agony. He intensified the grip._

_Brian didn't give him the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He remained silent and concentrated, remembering in thirty seconds all the lessons that Master Gen taught him. Brian clenched his fist._

"_Don't think I don't know what you're doing", Riddle said coldly. "You're going to try the Superman way out of this aren't you? Dissolving' the ground from underneath both of us. Predictable..." _

_Riddle's grin faded as he looked in his adversary's eyes. He noticed that Brian was now the one grinning._

_"Didn't you know," Brian grunted, "Superman's a dick!" He materialized a flaming blade and swung fierce. The right hand of his crazed, former friend caught fire as he raised his arm to shield the blow. Riddle relieved his grip and was mortally wounded_.

**Chapter 8: Fried Gold**

CJ removed his glasses and replaced them with contact lenses.

"Why couldn't we use one of the Ectos?" Erin asked, while turning onto a busy intersection that took them into Chestnut Street.

"Because they would draw too much attention."

"OK, but just so you know, if my car gets damaged, I'm billing the company."

"I've seen the way you drive, but fair enough."

Erin shook her head.

"OK, so how did you get the painter's overalls?"

Erin said. "I know the store's owner. He was asleep until I banged on his window"

"What'd you tell him?"

"The truth."

A blank expression crossed CJ's face.

She grinned roguishly. "All I said was it's a matter of life and death if he didn't help us."

"Poured it on thick didn't you?"

"Well, that and the top buttons of my blouse were undone."

"I'm impressed. Didn't know you had it in you."

She laughed, "You can put your tongue back in your mouth, fanboy. It was a one-time thing." Erin slowed down and pulled to a stop. "We're here."

Independence Hall is as much the nation's capital as Washington, D.C. The Hall stands as an icon in American history, appearing on the back of the United States $100 bill. But they didn't waste time admiring the history.

"The office we're looking for is on the upper level. Wait here, I'll be right back," She said. Erin was right about that section of the building being repainted. Dawn had long since passed, as the public roamed the corridors. Paint canisters and blue tarp lined along the side of the walls.

"I just spoke with the foreman. He said we can only go as far as the second floor, which is good because it'll look like we're working."

"And after that?"

"Then we're on our own."

"Nice." CJ looked behind Erin, noticing a Federal Agent keeping an eye on the paint crew; he had a gun. CJ said a silent prayer, hoping that his mug wouldn't end up on next week's episode of America's Most Wanted.

…

"CJ, I've been meaning to ask you", Erin said, grunting a little bit as she lugged the heavy paint can. "how did you gain access to a federal pass key?"

"I used to work for the government when I lived in Florida before I became a Ghostbuster. I had a friend who worked on my sector's division for paranormal side-projects. His name was Hideo Tanaka. I nicknamed him "Hide", but his parents called him Gabe."

"Gabe? Why?

"His family is full-blooded Japanese, but Hide/Gabe was born in East Orange, New Jersey so instead of calling him Hideo they just naturally call him Gabe."

"That still doesn't make any sense."

"He was one of those types of scientific fundamentalists who are so far into their beliefs that they couldn't fathom a cosmic deity could snap his fingers and create the universe in six days days. He was a bit of a stiff. Can you imagine someone like that?"

Erin flashed him a Cheshire grin. "I can try…"

"He never knew how to have fun. I always thought he only got into the paranormal just to disprove it..."

He stopped mid-sentence, grabbing Erin's elbow. He pulled her as they ducked into an empty room.

"What are you doing?" Erin asked.

"I thought I saw some Feds", CJ responded, edging the door closed as he peered through the crack. He heaved a sigh of relief as two assistants briskly walked by.

"Did I forget to say how illegal this is?" CJ said.

"You might have mentioned it."

"We need to ditch the supplies. They're slowing us up. Is there a quicker way up to the main office?"

"Service elevator?", Erin droned, pointing in the direction that the two assistants had just come from. "I think it should be on."

"We'll risk it", CJ said taking off the overalls, revealing his familiar uniform. Erin's eye fell to his left hip.

"Think you might cause a panic when they see that?" she said, pointing to the Proton Pistol.

"Painters with proton packs aren't in fashion this year," was CJ's retort as he took Erin's overalls and tossed them in a desk. "Let's go."

…

"Excuse me," someone said getting the attention of the foreman. He turned around, startled a little bit when tapped on his shoulder. Behind him was a stout young man, with dark shoulder-length hair and a goatee.

"Yeah?"

"Are they doing work today on the Hall?" the young man asked.

"Yeah, we are. Who are you?"

The young man grinned and stuck his hand inside his pocket. He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling it back out. His fist was clenched.

"Son, if you've got nothing else to do, get the hell–"

The foreman never finished his sentence as the young man raised his fist. He backed away a few inches before the young man blew a white, grainy powder into his face.

"What's your childhood trauma?" the young man asked. The foreman wiped the powder from his face and looked at him quizzically.

"What are you talking about?" He tried calling out for one of the agents standing outside his office door, but his voice cracked as he started to choke. Grabbing his throat, he felt as though his lungs were filling up with bile. _No_, he thought, _not bile. Water. Good God I'm drowning!_ Dayton fell to the ground, rocking back and forth as he clawed at an invisible force, trying to get air in his lungs. He spat up phlegm as the stout young man stood over him.

The young man looked behind him to see a tall, older man walking towards him. He was dressed in a dark bodysuit, draped with a svelte overcoat and white belt wrapped around his waist. The man's hair was receding, graying, and bald at the top of his head. What hair he had left was tied back.

"Well done", he said, patting the stout young man on the shoulder. Producing from his coat a P-38 Walther silencer, he shot the foreman twice in the chest. The stout young man looked at the Disciple confused.

"Show no mercy," the Disciple said. "Come, we have visitors to greet."

…

Erin stared at a computer monitor, her fingers tapping against the keyboard as she connected to the Pentagon's terminal, while CJ leaned over her shoulder. Apprehension grew, as he drummed his fingers along the butt of his proton pistol.

"So far, so good", Erin said, almost in a tone trying to convince herself not to be nervous. She shifted in the chair, causing it to squeak. "OK, we're in. Now what?"

"Hide said to pull up the file on a Dr. Merton Pettigrew, case file 00-11-90-05." She did this and sure enough, there was the name **_PETTIGREW, Merton Harkness._** A brief bio noted him among the physicians dispatched to Iraq between the years 2002 and 2004. She clicked on the name, which led her to a series of folders, each one marked by years and dates.

"Looks like Pettigrew spent a lot of time in Baghdad", she said, pointing to the screen. "Do we have a date?"

"Look for one about a month from yesterday", CJ said. "When I called Detective Madison, he said the bodies had been missing from Baltimore for two weeks. The transport plane never made it's destination, but the pilot and crew were found dead tied up in the bathroom."

"Found it." Erin moved the mouse cursor towards the folder and clicked it on it. A display message appeared: **CLASSIFIED**. "We need a password."

"Lemondrops."

"What?"

"Hide said that Dr. Pettigrew's password is Lemondrops. It's a weird thing with him." Erin rolled her eyes as she punched in the letters. The folder opened. She frowned as she noticed something wrong on the screen.

"We got a problem, Ceej."

"What is it?"

"How many bodies went missing?"

"About six dozen. All were supposed to be shipped back over here."

"Then someone's been here before us", Erin said pushing the chair back, letting CJ take a look at the screen. Written in plain words were the listing of several wounded soldiers and a few dead ones. No autopsy reports or a listing of the commanding officer that would have had to sign the autopsy.

"This isn't right", he said.

"These are dummy files", Erin said simply.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that the real files were probably destroyed by Pettigrew..."

"Damn."

"Someone didn't want them to be seen. Dr. Tanaka and Detective Madison told us was information they were given. They must've not had any idea the files were stolen."

"This reaches higher than I thought."

_"Indeed, Dr. London," said a voice in the office._

CJ and Erin turned around in shock.

**Chapter 9: Pre-Crisis**

Adrik Thorsen stood wide-legged with his hands folded behind him as he stared at the two unconcious figures before him.

"Truly pathetic", he said smirking. His boots thudded against the carpet as he walked towards CJ and Erin. The office was dark, save for the whirring light emanating from the monitor. Thorsen took his time to study the face of the young scientist. He had aged since the last time they faced each other. Not long ago, CJ was nothing more than a child, someone playin_g _hero.

"Shall I kill them now?"

Thorsen looked at his servant. "My dear fellow", he drawled. "Has your murderous rage grown so that you cannot contain it?" His servant looked down at his feet, dejected. Earlier, he would have struck him for showing such weakness.

But this time, Thorsen was pleased.

CJ came to, moving his hands slowly before regaining his senses. He opened his eyes.

"After all we've been through, Dr. London, don't tell me you don't recognize an old friend?"

The gravelly, chain-smoked British accent rang through CJ's ears as he turned towards its direction. His heart skipped a beat as he tried to remain composed.

"Thorsen", was all he could say.

Thorsen grinned, looking down on him. "Ah, so you do remember my name."

"I wouldn't care to repeat it", CJ said, as he sat up. He took quick notice of the General's follower the brooding in the shadows. He could not get a good look at the face, but acknowledged that he was there. Next to him, Erin was still out cold. H hoped she was all right.

"Always the cut-up I see. Not so strong without your merry band of Rogues behind."

"Do me a favor, Spooky", CJ replied, his right hand inching slowly towards his Proton Pistol, "shove it!" He whipped it out with the quick accuracy. Blue and yellow fury shot from the muzzle towards Thorsen; it did not hit its mark.

"What the deuce?" CJ stared at the hole in the wall he had made.

"Looking for me?" Thorsen smashed his fist into the side of CJ's face, knocking him to the other side of the room and slamming into the side of an oak desk. The pistol fell at Erin's side.

"What is it that they say about old dogs and new tricks?" Thorsen said mockingly.

CJ grunted as he struggled to move. His ribs were broken.

"How much use is your education", he said, "against _this_?" He grabbed CJ by the left arm, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Smoke rose, as Thorsen gleamed at the smell of Dr. London's burning flesh. CJ clenched his teeth, repressing the urge to scream.

"Jesus!" he groaned." Everything below the elbow was gone, the wound hemorrhaged. He grabbed his stub in an attempt to stem the blood flow.

Thorsen sneered. "Dr. London, do you hear yourself?" He kicked him twice in the stomach, causing CJ to cough up blood. Thorsen bent down and grabbed him by the hair.

"I don't know about you, son, but I'm having a ball."

Thorsen did not blink, or seem surprised, when he heard the click of a gun chamber.

"Have we met, my dear?"

Erin had gained consciousness while Thorsen was occupied. She found a black pistol revolver in the drawer of the computer's desk. Her hands shook as she held the gun. All the while, attention was drawn to the locked office when security got wind of the commotion. Personnel banged outside of the door.

"Let him go", she said. Thorsen turned slowly. Erin never met him, but was all too familiar with his reputation from Doom Patrol's case files. He had initiated everything that occurred in Dalton, in an insane attempt to turn the world into his personal nether realm.

…

_The three Ghostbusters walked over towards Thorsen as he breathed heavily. "No", he said. "It—it will not end like this." He was weak. His hand reached for the spear, but Salina kicked it away._

"As a duly designated representative of the city, state, and county of New York, I place you under arrest."

But Thorsen smiled and said:

"He warned me that I would fail. I should have listened."

"Who warned you?" Rob asked. "Speak up!"

Thorsen laughed maniacally, "You fools!" He muttered a spell underneath his breath. The Ghostbusters watched astonished as Thorsen disappeared before their eyes, his high insane laugh filling the air.

…

"Let him go", she repeated.

"You're not going to shoot me", Thorsen said.

"You don't think I will?"

Thorsen grinned at her as his eyes narrowed. He turned back towards CJ.

"I hope your last thoughts of your teammate is how much he fucked this up." He placed his hand on CJ's chest. It burned worse than before. CJ never saw it coming, as he felt a million tiny needles prod into his body. He finally screamed in pain. Erin cried and watched helplessly as his entire body began to be pulled apart by these needles, his face was a mask of agony and horror.

That was enough. She aimed with the intent to kill.

Three shots fired into Thorsen's back, knocking him on his side. She fired again, the fourth bullet embedding itself in Thorsen's arm. CJ was dehydrated; his eyes were rolled into his head.

The look said it all: _This is bad_.

An angered Thorsen fought back. He conjured a circle on the ground that engulfed CJ in bright yellow light. The young scientist sunk into the floor as though it were quicksand. Erin dropped the gun and dove forward, but she was too late. CJ's hand disintegrated, as the scientist disappeared inside the circle of light, a scorch mark from where it had been placed. "_No_!" She screamed. She looked over at Thorsen; blood pooled from his wounds. He was still breathing. She retrieved the gun and cocked back the hammer. Two rounds were left in the chamber.

Thorsen turned his head towards her. He smiled.

Suddenly, Erin was knocked on the ground as something struck her head, causing her to lose the gun. Her back landed on a sharp object sharp object. When she looked up, her eyes grew wide as she saw what hit her.

"Brian?" Thorsen's servant, the stout young man, looked puzzled at Erin.

"Who?" He said hovering over her. There was no recognition on his face.

Thorsen rose to his feet and dusted himself off, as if the bullets had not had any effect on him. "As I told the dearly departed Dr. London, old dogs learn new tricks. I did not meet you before, Ms. Cummins..."

This shocked Erin. How did he know her name?

"...But I am sure your loyalties are just as misplaced as your employer's. But, you are brave, so I am going to offer you a chance."

"A chance?"

"A chance for your own continued existence. Renounce what you believe in. Renounce your God, your friends, and join me in the next stage of humanity's evolution."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll make you beg for hell."

Erin realized then what she had landed on. It was CJ's proton pistol. Her glance remained on Thorsen

"Why did you do all this," She asked, stalling for time.

"What kind of villain would I be if I revealed my plan before victory? You'll find out soon enough."

Erin jerked the pistol from underneath, but didn't fire. Instead, she threw it at Thorsen, catching him momentarily off guard and ran for her life. She burst through the door, pushing away security as she darted down the corridor through a crowd of bystanders. Security followed her in hot pursuit.

Thorsen shook his head and rubbed his wounds.

"Women."

"She's gone", the servant noted in a thin voice as he leaned over the computer desk. Thorsen cast an icy glare.

"Let her."

"Master?"

"Let her run to her friends. Let her run to false security. Now, come; we mustn't waste time."

The servant looked at Thorsen dumbfounded as the man glided past him, a smile playing upon his lips.

"And what are we to do of them," the servant asked, pointing at the Hall of patrons and the remaining security positioned by the door with their firearms drawn.

Thorsen's eyes glowed red, as everyone looked on, "What good is being evil if you don't take pleasure in your work? No witnesses. Dispose of them."

The servant smiled, "With pleasure, my lord."


	4. Act 4

**Chapter 10: Reach Out and Waste Someone**

It was Andrew who first began to sense that something was terribly wrong.

In his room at the Highrise, he attempted to sleep, despite the fact it was nearing the afternoon. He hadn't slept in the last two days; add to what had happened between himself and Salina hours earlier, he knew he was going to lose another day's rest. He was used to it by now. After all, he'd once spent more than a month's worth of sleepless nights trailing a supernatural serial killer calling itself "the Fantom".

Reflexively, he ran his fingers through his massive shock of aburn hair, smoothing it out in mid-yawn. He stared out of his window, and noticed the approaching graying skies. He shrugged it off as he went over to a corner of his room and pulled a black shirt from a pile of dirty laundry. His usual boots and leather jacket were the only things folded in the otherwise unkempt domicile. His present clothes weren't his usual style. After a couple of years of wearing the same trench coat over a flight suit, he figured it was time for a change. God knows he didn't want to be pegged as a comic book caricature of himself. He grinned at the notion of being likened as a comic book character, but then put those thoughts aside knowing its an improbable pipe dream.

Salina had been in his room at some point, he figured, grabbing his boots.

Andrew realized how quiet it was when he made his way downstairs. Erin was not at her desk, which wasn't unusual; occasionally, she did some errands for the crew when asked. Rob, he figured, was probably down in the basement with CJ working on the schematics for god knows what. Though he benefited from their technical abilities, Andrew much preferred weapons of his own make. They'd never failed him before, and, as they say, why improve upon a winning formula?

He went into the kitchen, going towards the refrigerator. The contents reflected the various personalities of the team, ranging between junk food and beef to yogurt, fruits, and vegetables. Andrew grunted in annoyance to himself as he noticed that the last two beers had been drank, evidenced by the empty bottles sitting at the bottom of the recycle bin. It was just as well. He wasn't really hungry anyway.

He stayed in the kitchen for a few moments longer, his back against the fridge door. What was it that had happened between he and Salina last night?

_You know what happened._

_Just be honest to yourself for once in your miserable life. You have feelings for her._

That was an odd assumption to make. Salina had been his teammate for almost two years now. It was odd that, now, something would come of that. Truthfully, he really didn't know what was really going to happen. When they had left Fairmont Park, Salina was standing closer to him, closer than she had ever had before. Andrew could feel his heart beating faster with each step.

He had to ask himself: Is it _really right _to do this? They were teammates, maybe friends (though prior history would have contested that fact). But, could they honestly be _lovers_.

The question haunted Andrew as he reached inside his pocket. He pulled out a small, beaded metallic necklace. It was slightly rusted, missing one of its beads.

It was Ashley's.

She had submitted it to Professor Salaway that night at the gym, as part of the incantation that would be a demonstration to alternate planes. That night when Salaway had briefly opened a gate to the realm of the Old Ones. Things went wrong, horribly, for all involved. Students were killed, others disappeared; a monstrous vortex swept through the gymnasium like a tornado, pulling students inside the gate. To Andrew's horror, Ashley was grabbed by one of the demons emanating from the gate, slowly pulling her inside. She kicked and screamed as Andrew tried to pull her back out.

He would not forget her screams as she was pulled inside the hellish domain. She cried for Andrew to help but he could do nothing but watch. That night, he vowed to never again allow himself or anyone who he cares about to be a victim. He made that promise now as he gripped the necklace tightly in his fist.

Suddenly, outside, he heard a loud crash. It was familiar: a car hitting a pile of garbage cans. And yet he could feel a sudden surge of electricity pass through his body. Something was making him go outside. He wanted to shrug it off, but peered out the window.

It was Erin's car.

He erupted from where he was just standing and was outside within moments.

Under abnormal circumstances, anyone else would have become morbidly disturbed by the scene Erin had just witnessed. There was blood pouring from a small cut to the top of her head, caused as she attempted to escape from Independence Hall.

From Adrik Thorsen.

…From Brian.

Even as she tried to get back to the HQ, she could not believe that it was really Brian back there. The man she encountered looked like him, had his body structure, moved like the Brian she knew. But the main difference was that the Brian she knew had feelings behind his eyes, not like the person she had just left. The secretary had seen enough case profiles to know what she was looking at… a killer.

Her car came to a halt when she plowed through the garbage cans outside the HQ. She didn't care. Despite how barely calm and rational her mind was at the time, she knew she had to compose herself long enough to relay what she'd just been through to the Ghostbusters.

She stumbled out of her car and cursed when she realized that in her escape she had badly sprained her thigh. She wasn't a gymnast, and yet she had performed moves that would, in her estimation, be worthy of Bronze Medalist.

"Cummins!" She looked up. It was Andrew. He extended a hand to help her up. He first noticed the blood trailing down her cheek as he made himself into a crutch for her.

"Andrew, where's everybody?" she said panting.

"Brian went downtown for a meeting with Riddle, Salina's up in her room, and CJ and Rob are down in the basement."

Erin shook her head. "No, CJ's dead."

The words felt so sudden, and yet unreal, the way she said them, stopping Andrew.

"What...?"

"Andrew, he's back. Adrik Thorsen is back."

"...and then he said 'I hope your last thoughts of your teammate is how much he fucked this up' and then he...he..."

Erin couldn't finish. She was sitting in the kitchen of the Highrise. Salina was fixing a splint to the side of her leg, so that Erin's pain would be dulled. Rob was now standing where Andrew had only been minutes earlier. The exception now was that Andrew had been brooding; Rob was sullen.

"So that's it then." Rob said in a low tone. "He just up and killed him." Andrew noticed how much trouble it was for Statler to accept it. CJ had often displayed the devil's luck when it came to certain situations. Out of every bad event that had come to Doom Patrol, he had sometimes come out of them with minor scrapes, a few scars, but was always remotely alright. Andrew looked to Salina, and felt the urge to comfort her. Her bottom lip was quivering as she fought back tears that would not come. Not at least at this time. They were not needed and Salina would not show them.

It was quiet. Nobody said a word. Andrew could feel how cold everything was between the four of them. Suddenly, Rob punched a nearby wall, creating a large dent. He stood with his head lowered under the archway of the kitchen door, with his head lowered in tears.

"This ends now", Rob said. "Thorsen is going to pay and I'm going to personally hand him his ass."

"And kill him? Rush in there without knowing a damn thing what to do?" Andrew said holding up three fingers, ticking each one off as he spoke. "We don't know what the hell Thorsen's up to this time. If memory serves, we made that mistake once before back in Dalton and almost got the shit beat out of us. Second, if he's got allies behind him this time, we need to be smart and form a plan of before walking into danger. And third's the most obvious…we don't forget who we are and turn into murderers."

Everyone stared at Andrew. It was different to see him act like this: they were used to seeing him gung-ho and out for glory. He rarely showed this type of depth.

"You know", Salina said, "if CJ were here, he'd say something like 'Hell's frozen over! Andrew makes sense!' " Everyone laughed, even if a little sadly. Though, Rob couldn't muster a smile.

Erin could feel the coldness that had once settled in the room dissipate. It was suddenly warmer, but inside she could feel the bitterness still within as her mind rolled back to that room in Independence Hall.

And then she remembered something vitally important.

"Guys, there's no _if _Thorsen has somebody to back him up." All eyes were turned on her now.

"What are you saying, Er?" Rob asked.

Downtown Philadelphia was a warzone.

_No, that's an understatement_, thought Senior Detective Wyatt Madison as he surveyed the area. As a veteran of both the Vietnam and Persian Gulf wars, he was used to destruction. He'd seen the worst of it back in 'nam, of course, but, as he drew on his dangling cigarette, he knew that the scene before him was very close to what he had viewed back in Saigon.

The shops were hollowed out, gutted as if somebody had bombed them. Not impossible, but of course, again, he was using police thinking. _This city gets weirder every year_.

The street he stood on was an anomaly too: the concrete was raised from the ground, as if someone had pulled it out and shook it like a rug. Jagged, long cracks ran along the sides of what wasn't destroyed. A fire hydrant was being handled by two units of firefighters nearby. Behind him, he heard the creak and then collapse of a street light.

He took another puff on his cigarette.

"This looks hella bad, sir." Tom Kennedy was new to the division, but he already had a keen sense of detective skills that would, as Madison knew, make him go far. "Well son", Madison said, "It ain't good either." He saw the younger man glance at the ambulance (one of many, who swooped down upon the area within minutes of each other) helping those that had survived the carnage.

"I know what's going through your mind", he said.

"No, you can't", Kennedy replied as he bent down to check the pulse of a middle-aged woman, but knew she was already dead.

"Yeah, I can. Trust me, live in this city for as long as I have and you'll see a lot worse." Kennedy sighed.

"When I signed on to join up, I had no idea that things like this happened. At least not here."

"Let's take a walk kiddo", Madison said, indicating an alley that appeared to be relatively untouched. Kennedy looked quizzically at his superior, until he noticed the familiar WPVI Channel 6 news van appear on the scene. He followed behind Madison.

"Twenty years ago, I would have agreed with you. Hell, I never would have believed in ghosts, demons, or zombies for that matter."

"Ghosts? You think..."

"If I said that, I might as well reject whatever crap I learned at the academy right now. All I am saying is that there are things here that go beyond logical explanation. Things that make you question everything you know...and things you don't know."

"Or want to know."

"Exactly." Madison stopped as he looked around the alley. Old habit rather than a feeling. He noticed Kennedy doing the same.

_Kid doesn't know what he's looking for_", he thought_. He'll make one helluva cop. _The alley was darker than most of the others downtown, perhaps due to the buildings that sandwiched it reaching higher than the usual two or three story flat. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the place; the garbage cans, tossed around as they were, looked normal compared to the street.

He took one step and felt something slick underneath his shoe.

"Goddammit", he said in disgust. He saw Kennedy grin a small mark of ammusement. The older detective shook his head as he attempted to wring the hem of his pants dry.

"You get a good laugh out of that, Detective?"

"Sorry, sir. I'll be sure to watch where I'm walking from on." Kennedy waited a few moments for Madison's response, but it never came. He saw the older detective stare at his hand. "What is it?"

Madison ignored him as he looked down at the ground. He pulled a white cloth out of his pocket and dipped it into the puddle. Pulling it out, he showed it Kennedy.

"Blood", he said. The rookie knew then what to do: shut up, ask no questions, and let the professional do his job. It's one of the first rules they teach you at the academy.

The Detective moved quickly, though keeping his footsteps silent as he moved down the alley. His revolver was drawn. The puddle formed a trail, as if the victim had dragged themselves from where Madison was to a secluded place. Waiting to be rescued.

_Waiting to die_, Madison concluded.

"Hey, you two."

Madison stirred slightly, keeping his cool but instinctively pointing his gun at the source. Behind him was a man, propped up on the ground in a sitting position, though Madison could tell he was only like that because of the trash cans. Had he no other support, the man would have been lying on his back.

Even in this dim light, Madison could see the extent of the man's wound: there was a bloody splotch around his abdominal area, indicating that that he had more than likely been shot or stabbed. He wore no shirt. Madison noted the sickly pallor of the man's skin. Even his hair looked ill. But what attracted Madison's eye was the prosthetic he wore, a metallic fixture that was in the place where his arm should have been.

He spoke again. "Would you mind not lookin' at me like I'm some godammed freak and do me a favor?"

Madison regained his composure. "What?"

"Call a doctor. And tell him not to stick me in a meat locker when he gets here."

"_This is unreal,_" the senior detective thought.

"What you got there Wyatt?" Kennedy asked.

"Call one of those EMT's over here, kid", Madison said, not taking his eyes off the wounded man. "Hurry!" Kennedy moved quickly, calling out in the middle of the road for someone to come and fast.

Madison bent down to the man's level to get a better look at him. He appeared half-dead, and didn't believe he'd live long enough for the trip to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital. His breathing was shallow and the odds of him surviving his wound were slim.

But, he did what he always did in these situations.

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

"Riddle", the man replied calmly, as if he was sitting in a bar. "Jayson Riddle."

"Before the medics get here, Jayson, I need to ask you: did you see what happened here today?"

"No, sir", Jayson mocked. "I've been a little busy singing 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' while bleeding to death."

Jayson coughed. A bit of blood dribbled from his mouth.

"Take it easy, you're going to be ok..."

The young man wiped away the blood. He attempted to stand up, but fell back down. "Can't. I have to…OW! Christ!" He tried to help himself up again, cursed as his right leg gave out from under him.

"Please, stay still. You're in no condition to go anywhere."

"I've been through worse."

"Yeah, well not on my watch. Do you have a death wish or something, Mr. Riddle?"

Riddle looked stoicly at his metalic prosthetic limb and murmured, "Everyday."

Madison was about to question this last comment when the EMT attendants finally arrived on duty, attending to the young man's wound with dexterity. Dispite his injuries, Riddle continued to struggle

"Do what you can, but I need to get to the Ben Franklin Bridge immediately."

"What for?" Madison asked.

Riddle grunted in frustration, "What for! Look aroud you. The devestation you see is not just another act of terrorism. I..." He stopped, a shot of Thorazine from one of the on-field nurses calmed down Jayson somewhat as he slumped back to the ground.

"Gotta get to...need...Ghostbussss..."

"He's delirious from the pain," the nurse concluded.

Lingering on the last word Riddle uttered, Madison thought otherwise given the events that had occurred over the last few days.

"Will he be alright?" Madison asked.

"It's hard to say, he's lost a lot of blood. He was stabbed through the abdomen alright, but we can't be sure of the extent yet." Madison watched as the young man was strapped to a carrier bed and wheeled away to an awaiting ambulance.

**Chapter 11: Welcome to the Dead Zone**

"What's that?" Erin asked.

Salina felt her PKE meter as it came online, vibrating and sounding off eratically in her pocket. She pulled it out quickly and examined it with dred.

"No way," Salina's expression grew grim. "Guys, a trio of Class VII's are within the area."

"What direction are they moving?" Statler asked.

She looked up and stared at everyone before she spoke.

"…Here."

Andrew didn't stand idly by. He reached below the kitchen sink and removed a proton pistol that had been strapped underneath. "Rob, go down with Salina to the basement and get the packs. Suit yourself up and toss Erin one."

All eyes shifted from Andrew to Erin and back to Andrew.

Andrew gazed at Erin. "You heard right. We'll need an extra hand."

Erin was about to protest when she was held back by Salina, who asked, "Wait a minute Rambo, are you saying that you're going to hold off three Class VII's all by yourself?" Andrew grinned as he grabbed a second proton pistol and strapped it to his hip.

"It'll give me a chance to draw their attention away from you so we can evacuate the building and isolate the fight outside."

"But they'll rip you apart!"

"Sal's right, Texan", Rob said. "I'll stay with you and fight."

"I appreciate the thought Stat", Andrew said as he charged the pistols. The familiar whirring sound and the smell of it was a pleasant aroma ti gun. "But, you need to assist the girls. I know Salina can handle herself, but Erin isn't trained. If the ghosts bypast me and approach them, they'll need all the help they can get. Now, get going." Although under protest, Rob helped Erin to her feet (her leg still slightly tender), both trotting off to towards the basement to get to the packs. Andrew's back was still turned, but he knew he was not alone. "Why are you still here?"

Salina pursed her lips and looked at Andrew sternly. "You can't stop them alone", she said. He noticed there was not a hint of a plea in her voice. It was more of a matter-of-fact tone.

Turning to face her, he said, "I know. And you're probably right about them killing me. But till then, I'll just do what I've always done."

"And what's that?"

Andrew aimed the proton pistol at the window.

"Give 'em hell."

In the back of his head, Andrew could hear himself saying _Hug her you moron! Tell her how you feel!_.

"Salina, I..."

Andrew snapped to attention, his head turned towards the kitchen window. "DUCK!" he shouted, pushing both himself and Salina to the ground as the wall exploded in a sudden, brilliant fury. Salina shook shards of glass from her hair as she looked up.

"Go, _now_!" Andrew barked as he got to his feet.

"That's twice", Salina said as she got up.

"What?"

"That you've saved my life. Promise me one thing Andy..."

"What?"

"Watch your ass."

Andrew cocked his head slightly as he stood in front of the gaping hole in what was their kitchen. He cast a smile that said it all for him: _Just take care of yourself kid_. Salina understood this and nodded as she ran to join Rob and Erin. As she left, she heard another explosion and the collapse of the archway that led to the kitchen, blocking the only exit Andrew had.

Andrew counted the ticks of the seconds in his head. The clock was broken, but he didn't care as his flicked the trigger of the pistol in his right hand. He knew that last blast had trapped him.

Perfect.

In front of him, he could make out the corporeal mist beginning to swirl and take shape. He may not have been as trained as CJ, Salina, or even Rob and Brian in understanding the classes of ghosts, but he could sense that this one was going to be a mean little bastard.

It's crimson eyes opened and stared hungrily at Andrew. He laughed.

"You do realize you've just fucked up our disaster insurance premium!" he shouted. He fired a single proton stream from the pistol in his left hand, hitting the ghost directly. It roared in pain as it rose from the ground, leaving behind a vaporous trail similar to fog. "Oh, don't leave the dance yet" Andrew asked mockingly as he fired into the air. "We're just getting started!" The ghost swirled around Andrew, creating a protoplasmic duster to catch the hunter off-guard as it went through him, knocking Andrew to the ground.

He reached for the charger attached to his hip and hit a button on the top of the device. A compartment opened, revealing three micro Ecto-Spheres that Rob had created, but not gone through a successful (or even unsuccessful) test of the equipment. Today was, as Andrew judged, as good a time as any to do find out. He fired again as the ghost dive bombed towards him, his orange stream encircling the ghost in it's positive ionization. Pressing a small button on the Ecto-Sphere, Andrew tossed it in the air and looked away quickly. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face when he heard the opening of the Sphere and the roar of a defeated foe.

The Sphere clattered to the ground as a green light flashed.

_That was too easy_, Andrew thought. He turned his back for a second, checking the Ecto-Sphere, a mistake that would cost him dearly. Without realizing it, his keen senses were dulled by the ghost, it's effects giving the hunter a small euphoric feeling that trounced his steady awareness. The ghost had lured Andrew into false security.

Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the formless shadows on the ground beginning to take shape.

The shadow slammed into Andrew, knocking him to the ground. Disoriented for a moment, he scrambled as he grabbed his proton pistol to fire at his new opponent. The shadow looked at Andrew slyly and crushed the pistol with a psionic blast.

"_I was told not to yet kill you_" it said. Suddenly, Andrew felt shockwaves run up and down his body. The slayer gritted his teeth in defiance.

"I wouldn't recommend struggling, Mr. Williams."

_That voice_. Andrew raised his head.

"So", he said, "it _is_ true."

Adrik Thorsen walked through the ruined kitchen, crushing glass underneath his boots as he faced Andrew. The pain stopped once he entered, but Andrew found himself still immobile. Thorsen stood over Andrew, with his arms crossed and smiled mockingly at him.

"I had always envisioned you either at my side or at my feet", he said. "Guess I got my wish."

"Well, you can shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which one gets filled first!" Andrew said, still struggling to get up.

"A sense of humor, the one common trait you Ghostbusters share. I also wouldn't recommend reaching for your other pistol, Mr. Williams", Thorsen said. He walked over to Andrew's second proton pistol and crushed it under his boot.

"What'd you do to CJ?" he asked. Thorsen laughed.

"As much as I would _love _to tell you, some things are better left unsaid."

"So what, ya gonna kill me too?"

"Oh no, Mr. Williams. Your incredible strength impressed me in our last encounter. Though, I now garner a need for it." He grabbed Andrew by his shirt collar and stared at him.

"But, Andrew, you're going to regret what happens next."

Erin frowned slightly as she hauled the original Mark IV proton pack on her back. Rob and Salina, used to the weight, were wearing Rob's modified versions. "Now I know why this was the part of the business you guys hated", she said. She was dressed in a spare uniform, Salina's older ones from the groups earlier adventures. It hung slightly looser in the pants area, Salina being a foot taller than Erin, but still a good fit. "Are you guys sure this'll work?"

Rob switched his pack on. "It's supposed to", he said, checking his PKE.

"Supposed?" She replied uncertain with a hint of annoyance.

"It's not broken. We just haven't used it in a while." Erin nodded in agreement as she unsheathed the neutrona wand and charged it up. "Anything I need to know before we get out there?"

"Don't cross the streams", Both Rob and Salina simultaneously advised.

"Why?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know." Salina replied. Erin's heart pounded heavily in her chest.

"You'll do fine Er", Rob soothed as he heartily patted her on the back. "Ready?"

"I guess", she said, trying to convince herself.

"Uh-oh", quipped Salina. Her eyes looked at her PKE meter and then diverted to the ground floor. "Rob...Erin...If you could, fire two rounds of proton streams at the floor would you?"

"The floor?" Erin asked. "What for?"

"Now."

Rob wasted no time in catching the obvious. Despite his massive loss of hearing, he could feel the vibrations underneath his feet. Something was trying to claw it's way up. The cracks were already appearing. A yellow and blue stream sailed from his neutrona wand, blasting a hole in the floor. There, staring up at the trio, were a pair of demonic creatures in the shapes of bats. Rob had already blasted one back down into the hole, but the other managed to get a claw through the surface. Seeing its cohort attacked, the demon let out a chilling, high-pitched scream that sent both Salina and Erin to the ground.

As the batlike creature ascended, Rob managed to catch it in his grasp. The demon soared toward the ceiling, with Rob latched onto its hind legs. He pulled the demon toward him, as it lost is balance in the air. The sentient being lost control of its direction, following a staggering fist from the thirty-year-old Ghostbuster into its rib cage. The two came crashing down. When they landed, knocking over a bulletin board and several desk chairs, he grabbed the demon by it's throat. For a moment, the muscular Doom Patrolman, looked into the eyes of his attacker with utter disdain. He hated it, all of their kind…every last cretin of evil. And yet, he had never come to fully understand why.

He crushed its windpipe under the pressure of his gloved hands. Statler kneeled, wiping the sweat off his brow, and then stood upright.

"Salina? Erin?" he looked around the basement to see if they were ok.

"We're fine," Salina replied. The women walked over to him and observed the demonic corpse of the creature on the ground.

"That's one down," Rob said. "So, anyone want to tell me what that was?"

"Class VII Metaspectre", Salina explained. "I'll fill in the details later, but we have to get back upstairs. Andrew's..."

She was drowned out by her PKE. The color drained from her face when she studied it.

"What is it?"

"More."

The trio looked down into the hole, finding a swirl of screeching bat-demons encircling them as they flew to the surface. There were ten of them, each one destroying the basement and, to Rob's horror, the ECU. "Motherfu–!" he shouted as his voice was droned out by the fluttering of leathery wings. Rob fired his neutrona wand at another one of the the hellish creatures. His aim was slightly off, nicking the demon on it's ear as it flew and hovered above them. Salina and Erin fired in unison. Erin sent a whirring beam of protonic energy at one that whizzed about a foot away from Salina's head. Salina cursed under her breath, but was glad that Erin appeared as though she was getting the hang of it. For a woman who spent much of her time behind desk, she seemed like a natural using a proton pack.

"Erin behind you!" Rob shouted pointing to a demon as Erin swung her proton beams in the it's direction, hitting the monster as it fell.

"That...was fun", Erin said grinning.

"Yeah, and that ain't all of them", Rob deadpanned as he blasted another one as it rose from the ground, gliding towards him. "By the way, Erin…where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

She replied, "7-11."

Rob cocked an eyebrow.

"Um, they have a 'House of the Dead' game there?" She said sheepishly.

The group did not see the green, pulsating light emanating from the hole behind them

Elsewhere...

"_This was all my fault", was the only thought Jayson Riddle had on his mind. I should have known...seen the signs more clearly than I thought..._

_He was at the steering wheel of Baptist Medical ambulance, the very one that had attempted to get him to the hospital. He was pumped with twenty CC's of Thorazine but it had little effect. The medics did not want to listen to Riddle once his wounds were tended to. They had patched him up, but was informed he needed more than that if he wanted to live._

_"So what?" Jayson had made his decision a long time ago and knew he needed to correct it._

_It took a little more effort to knock the EMT's and the driver out, draining him completely. _

_He shook it off upon seeing the Yogs, bat-like demons from Hell, in the surface world, attacking Philadelphia's citizens. He swerved around a corner, nearly hitting a street hot dog vendor as the man ran into the street, a Yog clawing on his back. Jayson looked in the rearview mirror to see the Yog shredding the man to pieces. _

_A spasm of pain crossed Jayson's face, nearly causing him to wreck the vehicle. _

_"Can't give up now", he said out loud to himself. "Brian sure as hell didn't."_

To be concluded...


	5. Act 5Conclusion

Author's note: This chapter is also accredited to Robert Smith and Brian Roig, who provided the rocks upon which this part of the story was built upon.

**Chapter 13: The Last Waltz**

October 2004

Dr. CJ London cracked his knuckles as he stretched his arms behind his head. His usual pair of glasses were lying upon a writing table. He was in his room, at that moment. A slow day in the business of Ghostbusters, but a moment nonetheless. Or, at least, for a brand new team such as the Ghostbusters: Doom Patrol. In almost a year, the group had seen the worst that evil can offer, and yet had survived.

But one question plagued him: for how long?

In front of him was his journal, something he'd been keeping since he was fourteen years old. It contained, as all journals do, his thoughts, his feelings, but most of all his deepest secrets.

_Everyone has secrets_, he thought bitterly, as he read over what he had just written. He did not like it and had half a mind to throw it away. His right hand gripped the page tightly, but weakened. He could not do it.

His mind trailed back to the team's very first case. The outcome had been...

_Excellent?_

He smiled as the thought crossed his mind. The government had been gracious enough in giving the team the necessary funds to get started. But, as was made explicitly clear in the memo sent to them by Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld:

"You're on your own."

On our own...

It was a sentence he was becoming quite accustomed to. Even the very nature of their establishment and existence had proven to be a SNAFU when they did join Ghostbusters International officially. Many within had seen them as a low-key ripoff of a previous team. It annoyed CJ when the comparisons were made, even going as far as to almost getting into a fistfight once with someone who said it behind his back loud enough to hear. Rob (_Always the mediator_, he thought humorously) had to diffuse that situation before it escalated to atomic levels.

He no longer bothered with what people said anymore. Working "on our own" was what the team did best anyway. On their own and together.

His foot kicked a large wooden box underneath his desk. He regarded it for a moment before he returned to his journal. Rob had asked him about that box, as did Salina and Brian.

It was his comics was the usual excuse.

_Really, if they knew..._

He shook off the dread feeling he was getting. Despite being raised a Catholic, he was not much for prayers or the church, but he did believe in God; he believed that there was an inherent evil in the world. What he didn't believe in was that it wasn't coming.

It was already here.

_I hope, though, that God forgives me for this sin and hope that if what I've been studying the last four months never come to pass._

He shut the journal and locked it. For a moment, the thought of burning it came to pass his mind, but he ignored it. He removed his closet. Inside were his three uniforms (the traditional tan flightsuit worn by many Ghostbusters, as well as the darker ones briefly seen in 1988, and the one he most frequently wore with Doom Patrol), various comic book t-shirts (Green Lantern and Flash being the most prominent) and a few "Dress" clothes, as he called them. Pushing them to the side, he stared at the wall behind his clothes, which revealed a door. He knocked on it twice. The door swung open. He put the journal inside and closed it.

_Life really is easier when you don't know everything_.

The Present

"_I see them, master." The Servant said as he used his psychic eye to view the activity of his vexatious foes._

_He saw the muscular young black man. He saw how swift he moved, dodging the claws of his master's minions. He was strong, this one, but the rage and emotion that plagued his soul loomed over his place as an ethereal guardian. _

_He was like a wild animal. And he knew** exactly **how wild animals should be treated. Then the Servant remembered, his master had just recently finished dealing with another not long ago. He knew in his scornful heart that he would take distinct pleasure in killing the stoic Doom Patrolman._

_He saw the two females; one short, one tall, but both wearing the inventions that he had been perceptive to. The ones that were the means to the end of all the Dark manifestations in the world. Between them, he admired the tall, raven-haired beauty as she dispensed one of the attacking minion Yogs. _

_She was ravishing, though her soft, exotic looks did not overshadow her aptitude as a gifted fighter. Her long, slender legs intrigued him...she was an exotic beast that he craved with perverted desire._

"_I see them, master."_

"_Good. You have seen what they can do. Now...it is your turn to show _them what you can do better._"_

_The Servant grinned. Hunched in a crouched position inside the tunnel that the Yogs had made, he had been slowly ammasing strength. His assailants would soon feel his uholy emnity. _

Rob felt an unexpected surge of energy pulse through his body.

He dropped his proton blaster as he slumped to the ground.

"Abashed the devil stood, and felt how aweful goodness is!", Adrik Thorsen belowed with thunderous distain after his Servant struck Statler with a psionic blast of electricity from within the opening of the tunnel. He then left, addressing his disciple to keep his adversaries occupied while he tends to another pressing matter.

"ROB!" Salina screamed as she fired off another round at the Yogs. Erin turned around to look and see what happened, and gasped as she saw her friend's smoking body. Salina bent down next to him, feeling for a pulse.

Thin and thready, but still alive.

Salina's glasses were long gone during the heat of battle, and her green eyes narrowed at the darkly cloaked figure in front of her. She clutched her neutrona wand tightly. The attacking Yogs had perched above in the rafters of the basement.

"That's not enough to kill him…yet." It was another male's voice, deep and husky but filled with more menace than any the two of them had ever heard. Erin went pale as she saw the figure come through the eroded hole in the floor, as though he were rising from a crypt.

"So...it _is_ true", she saw clearly for the first time the Servant's face. He grinned. Raising his hand, this time a wave of psionic energy rippled through the basement, knocking Salina and Erin towards the ground. The attack continued. Erin looked over at Salina as she grabbed a hold of a banister in the room.

_What the hell's going on?_ She mouthed. But Salina did not answer as she tried to hold on to Rob's still unconscious body.

"Lord Thorsen told me all about you", the Servant said walking towards the trio. "You all had fun didn't you? Playing your little charade of being crusaders against darkness. Doom Patrol you call yourselves? Pathetic!" He intensified his attack. The room began to shake violently, threatening to collapse with them in it. Erin saw the floor beginning to buckle underneath the pressure.

"Is that what's going on? Some kind of vendetta against us for spoiling Thorsen's plan?" Salina shouted.

The Servant laughed. "Oh, much more than that, Salina. But, that's for us to know and you to painfully find out."

Suddenly, Salina felt something tug on her hand. Rob was looking at her.

"Salina, let me up", he said in a low voice. His legs were still jello from the earlier attack, and he was still dazed. He saw the worried look on her face. "It's okay, I got it."

"Ah, we have a new challenger!" the Servant said gleefully. Rob limped along as he dragged his left leg behind him.

"If it's not a bogeyman or a demigod, its something else. You would-be world- conquerors make me sick. All this (Statler pointed around to the destruction of much of the basement) just to take over an overpopulated and polluted Earth? Sloppy seconds, man. Sloppy seconds", Rob said with a pained expression on his face. "Especially ones that take the face of old friends."

The Servant's eyes narrowed.

"The Brian I knew would never go all Darth Vader on us, no matter what the circumstances. I know he's better than that. Just like CJ was."

"You are brave, mortal. Braver than most that my master has slain in _his _name."

"You know, I meant to ask your Master before…what kind of stupid-ass name is Adrik Thorsen? Now, _Shaft_, that's a motherfuckin' name!"

"What's he doing?" Erin asked silently. She had noticed that the Servant's previous attack had lessened, and then stopped altogether. Salina couldn't believe it as she laughed sarcastically to herself.

"I don't believe it", she said.

"What?"

"He's got that bastard monologuing."

"What?"

"You're the film student, you should know this. He's basically buying us some time by engaging this bastard in conversation. Erin, on my mark, I want you to fire the first round. I'll follow next."

"Okay."

The Servant walked up to Rob. He was smaller than the muscular Ghostbuster.

"Hitting a man all vile like that ", Rob said shaking his head. "You better watch yourself."

"And why is that?" the Servant asked, a tinge of a sneer in his voice.

Rob looked down toward his boots and wiped the blood that was trickling down the side of his mouth. "Because _we will break you_."

"Damn straight!" Salina shouted. Rob maneuvered out of the way as Salina and Erin's proton beams slammed into the Servant.

"ARRRGH!" the Servant bellowed.

"Rob", Salina said slightly out of breath, "if we make it out of this alive, I promise I will watch the Rocky movies with you after this."

Through the pain that he was experiencing at being stricken with nuclear enegry from the force of the protons streaming from the Ghostbusters weaponry, the Servant mustered the strength to fire back with a blast of his own, creating a surge of power that rippled through the room knocking his antagonists down.

The energy the Servant had suddenly unleashed caught the team off-guard, knocking Salina and Erin back into the wall. His eyes were blazing a fiery red as he walked towards the ECU.

"_I am tired of this_", he said between gritted teeth.

"He's going for the containment unit!" Salina yelled getting to her feet. She ran towards the Servant, her proton blaster readied and aimed.

He grabbed her by her throat.

"So, you think you can play hero?" he said as he squeezed her trachea. "I was intending to keep you for myself after I killed your friends. But you've made me bored."

"I so wanted to play with you,"he said as he stared enticingly at her cleavage.

"Then play with _me, _asshole."

"_What?_"

Rob slammed one of his metal chairs into the back Servant's head, knocking him across the floor.

"You okay?" he asked as he helped Salina up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But go check on Erin," she said. Suddenly, her eyes went wide as she shouted"_Watch out!_" Rob had only a moment to turn around as a psionic blast hit him square in the chest, knocking him through the wall.

"_NO!_" Salina screamed as she ran over to him. She felt for a pulse. There was none.

"On second thought, I won't be needing your containment unit", the Servant quipped getting to his feet, as he rubbed the back of his throbbing head. "I'll let someone else handle this." He placed an open palm upon the ground. It glowed for a moment and then stopped.

"Have a nice night", he said, faux-tipping to Salina as he ascended upstairs.

She grunted as she let loose a stream of protonic energy, narrowly missing the Servant.

In the corner to the far side of the room, she saw Erin beginning to stir.

"Ungggh...what smoked me?" she said wearily. She then saw Salina's face. "What happened to him?"

She spoke too soon. The basement began to shake as the Yogs began to descend back into the tunnel. Dust fell from the rafters.

"Salina..."

"Erin, you got a good handle on that proton pack yet?"

"I...think...so..."

Salina looked down at her PKE meter. The readings were faint and distant yet strong enough to confirm what was coming for them.

"Good." She turned away from Erin and ran towards the stairs.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"It's a Bloofer."

"What?"

"Son of Koth, Prince of Evil."

"I don't like how that sounds."

"It could kill us all..."

"Now I _really _don't like how that sounds."

"There's a button on the particle thrower I should have told you about sooner," Salina said just remembering, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath. Most of GBI's client administrators would have had basic training in handling the equipment by now. It must have slipped their minds to pass that memo along to Erin. "Do you see it?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid to ask what's it do?"

The room was shaking more violently this time.

"No time to explain the full details, just know that when you press it, there will be a blinking light. If you press it again, there will only be two minutes until..."

"Boom?", Erin finished for her.

Salina nodded 'yes'.

"Oh God, I remember hearing CJ talking about this before, that it happened to the originals back in New York in '84. Dr. Duran, please tell me that we're going to survive?"

"I'm so sorry you got involved in this, Erin,"She said placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Don't be. Before I joined up with you, my life wasn't that exciting. It's not everyday a girl gets to blast away monsters on an occasional basis."

Dispite the moment, Salina mustered a faint smile. "I'm going to find Andrew. We can't stop Thorsen's disciple alone. Take care of Rob. And remember, you won't have much time before the thrower explodes. You'll have to haul ass and get yourself and Rob to safety."

Erin nodded and both women hugged, unsure if this moment would be the last they'd ever see each other again.

"Sure", she answered as Salina disappeared up the stairs. Erin looked at Rob as he lay limp in her arms. "You're a big one aren't you, Statler?"

The concrete underneath them burst violently, revealing a pink tentacle circling around the room. It came down upon one of the computers, crushing it. Erin charged her particle thrower.

She thought to herself: _I could have so gotten into this. Oh well._

She fired.

It was dark. Everything was covered in thick, hazy fog and shadows.

"Andrew?" Salina said warily as her voice echoed through the corridors.

**Chapter 14: All Things Must Pass Away**

No answer.

She walked quietly across the floor, glass breaking underneath her boots.

"Andrew?"

Suddenly, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. She turned around and was met with a blow across the jaw and collapsed on the floor.

Andrew stood above her. When she saw him, Salina felt a slight fervor of ease, but for only a fleeting moment. Though, as she looked closer at him, she sensed no feeling in his countenance.

His eyes were souless.

He grabbed her by the hair and allevated her to her feet, slowing removing her proton pack. He regarded her a moment before throwing her across the room. She landed hard upon Erin's desk, cracking the wooden frame in the process.

She groaned as she rolled over, her ribs feeling tender. They were badly bruised, if not broken. There was the metallic, putrid taste of blood in her mouth.

It was then that she heard the familiar _snikt_. She moved fast out of harm's way.

Andrew drove his Peacekeeper glove into the ground just as Salina rolled underneath the desk to the other side, the blades driven through the carpeted fixture of the office floor. He pulled them out and continued for Salina. His eyes were chilling, staring at her coldly with an unflinching intent to kill.

"Andrew what are you doing? This isn't you. They did something to you. Listen to me!"

He did not answer her as he leaped across the desk, the Peacekeeper's blades aimed at her head. Salina dodged the jab. "Andrew, shake it off! You're under some kind of..."

Andrew rushed her, letting out an animalistic growl. He snared Salina in a bear hug, attempting to crack her ribs. She yelled as the life was systematically being squeezed from her body.

"Andrew, please!" She winced, as she was barely able to maintain consciousness, let alone plead for her life.

_This can't be happening_, she thought grimly as she tried to keep her mind focused. Her right hand immediately went to her hip, where she unlatched a small pouch containing a cylinder. Andrew did not hear the rushing sound of air as the cylinder transformed into a metallic bo. She held it in front of her as a jolt of electricity (enough to knock Andrew down) coursed through them both as he went flying towards the wall, dropping Salina.

She breathed in heavily, gasping for air as she looked over at Andrew, who sat up quickly and gazed at her. Salina stood warily to face him as she held her proton bo in a defense position.

He rushed her again, but Salina stepped out of the way and cracked him across the back. She followed through by sweeping his legs out from under him with the blunt end of the bo.

"Come to your senses, Andy!" she shouted. "Thorsen and Brian have you under their control! Snap out of it dammit!"

Andrew attacked again as he plowed his shoulder into Salina's midsection, knocking the wind out of her and onto the ground. Her bo rolled out of her hand and across the floor. He was on top of her now as he grabbed her hair and struck her repeatedly.

He was heavier than her, and she knew that the only advantage she had was to reach her bo. But that was impossible.

Suddenly, Andrew stopped, his fist still raised as. He breathed in heavily, his visage in a mad rage not unlike a savage beast, as he turned towards Salina. He cried something inaudible before he would continue his abuse. With a bruised face, she looked at him quizzically but took advantage of the opportunity to push him off her chest and crawl towards her bo.

He raised his Peacekeeper simultaneously as Salina raised her bo.

People say life flashes before your eyes before you die. Salina was finding out that was true. She remembered everything, from her childhood raised by her father to her young adult life as an explorer. Regardless of the accolades she's received in her time spent as a doctor and freelancing across the globe as a photographer and cryptozoologist, it meant little more than outer glory. She'd never known true happiness, not until the life-altering phone call she received from Dr. Spengler that lead her to become a Ghostbuster. She cherished the last few years with her associates, who had become more her family than just a team. But now, Brian was a lost cause, CJ was dead, and she didn't know whether or not Erin and Rob were still alive. As it stood, there was little hope for her either. In the moments before her possible death, her feelings and perception of everything were never more clearer. But, she had to try…she had to fight. To save herself and if possible, the lives of her friends and the world, she had no choice but to face Andrew…who in the end, she realized, was the only man who gave her more peace and vivacity than she thought she deserved.

And so they fought.

What was mere minutes, seemed like an endless battle. They bled and cried. Hurt each other, never letting the other catch his or her breath, dare they not fall victim to the other's assult.

Andrew slashed Salina's shoulder with his blade and she stabbed him in the arm with a broken piece of wood from the secretary's station. Once he dropped his guard, she again brandished her bo.

Not before being shrewed enough to cushion her next blow with his good shoulder, he pivoted quickly, snatching her weapon and breaking it against a nearby wall. He then pulled back and grimaced in pain, nurturing his injured arm. He pulled out the broken shard she impaled in his bicep and tossed it across the room. His expression, once marked by ferocity, had begun to show its weariness.

_He's holding back_, Salina thought. _He's trying to not kill me. He could have easily folded up my spine at any time, but he didn't_.

Andrew stood up and looked at Salina.

_Andrew, please, fight it. I don't want to do this anymore._

He walked slowly over to her as his heavy boots echoed in the room. For some reason, he allowed her a moment to move. She didn't know what to make of it. In an unorthodox gesture, he retrieved the broken half of her bo and tossed it to her on the floor. It slid and stopped by her feet.

She understood. Whatever was controlling Andrew didn't destroy the sense of honor he had left. She was right, _he had been_ holding back.

Salina picked up her broken weapon. As he walked closer, she could smell his sweat.

He began walking faster.

He removed his Peacekeeper. Salina now knew what this indicated.

It was a fight he wanted now, and he wanted it fair. Giving her back her equalizer was the only chance she'd have of survival.

There's no surrender. Though her body says stop, her spirit cries never. Deep in their soul is a quiet ember. They know its them against each other. It's the paradox that drives them on. A battle of wills in the heat of attack. It's the passion that kills, the series that pushes on forever.

Andrew slammed his elbow into Salina's chest, causing her to cough and gag as she doubled over. He grabbed her by the back of her neck and threw her into the little gate that separated the offices from the rest of the room.

"_Get up_", Andrew said sternly as he walked over to her. His boot rolled her on her side, but refused to kick her.

"_Get up!_" He nudged her again, this time harder.

"_GET UP!_" He raised his foot, getting ready to put it through her back, but Salina grabbed his boot, surprising Andrew as she twisted it causing him to fall to the ground.

She brought the now broken gate down upon Andrew's face.

He snarled as he rose to his feet and dove at Salina, missing her narrowly and hitting a nearby desk. Salina picked the broken gate up (despite it's weight, she managed) as Andrew got up, crashing the gate into his face again, breaking his nose as he stumbled backwards.

She then swept her left foot across Andrew's face, which he attempted to block but proved unsuccessful. He then grabbed her leg and forced her backward hard, as Salina brutally slammed against the wall and slid to the floor.

_I'm not going to win this_, she thought. _Even as he's resisting control, he's still too much for me. I'm a good fighter, but Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, I'm not CHUCK FREAKIN' NORRIS!_

She then found underneath her hand her proton bo.

_How the hell did that get h––_ she thought. But, then disregarded the only bit of luck she received during this whole ordeal.

She saw Andrew.

He was coming for her.

Fast.

He swung at her with a hard right hook that was blocked by the bo.

She tapped him across his left ear, disorienting him slightly.

He swung again, this time connecting with the side of Salina's shoulder and knocked her back to the ground. Another punch would have dislocated her arm from her socket completely. She rolled away again, positioning herself by the bo.

Salina aimed the jagged edge at Andrew.

She could almost hear his voice in her head:

_Don't worry about saving me. Just get the job done and forget about my ass._

"I will", she said softly.

Salina ran towards Andrew, who swung at her, but she ducked and swung the bo across Andrew's torso and then uppercut him in the chin. With one last resource of her energy she rammed the bo as hard as she could into Andrew's right shoulder.

Andrew tried knocking her away, but Salina took the blows as she began pushing Andrew backwards. Thet picked up momentum as she thrust him towards the large pane that overlooked the bay, creating a perfect view of the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Salina closed her eyes when she heard the crushing of glass and then the rush of wind as she and Andrew fell backwards, tumbling towards the now dark and murky water.

The two plummeted to the deep. Salina's eyes were still closed. She cried. The coursing wind thrashed her hair against her face. Though, she was blind to the fate that momentarily lay before them, Andrew finally _awoke_.

She heard.

As they spiraled faster toward the approaching pier, he hunched in to stroke her cheek.

"Salina, I'm so sorry. I couldn't fight it. I…"

"I know," She finished for him as she pulled herself in, putting her finger over his lips.

Her last thought before she hit the rolling waves:

_I wish I could have done more...to save you..._

He too thought the same.

Soul meets soul on lovers lips. In pain and death, thy kiss will not submit.

**Chapter 15: Getchoo**

Erin had never seen anything like the Bloofer before.

It appeared to be a large cephalopod given the tentacles, but she had always thought giant squids were more indigenous to the east Atlantic than this side. The slime that rolled from the phallic tentacle hit the walls. Erin did her best to provide some kind of cover for Rob, pulling him (weighing more than the petite CA, Rob proved a challenge) out of the way and placing him in a corner that would provide some sense of security for the unconscious Statler.

Salina's explanation echoed around her brain as she jumped out of the way of the Bloofer. The floor was slowly giving way, so that Erin could see clearly the creature's multi-fanged mouth just waiting for her.

A monstrous howl floated in the air as Erin fired a proton stream at it. She looked incredulously as it appeared to have little effect.

"Goddamn it! Now wh at?" she cursed to herself as the Bloofer grabbed a desk and pulled it into the dark cavern it had for itself.

The tentacle fell down again, this time grabbing Erin left shoe.

"Ahhhhh!" she shouted as her hands flailed about trying to grab whatever she could.

It was then that she looked up at an enormous hole in the wall (that she and Salina had caused earlier) to see Jayson Riddle standing in front of her.

He raised his hand. A purple light shot from his palm and hit the Bloofer's tentacle, causing it to evaporate while also freeing Erin.

"Jayson!", she said getting to her feet. Jayson smiled weakly. The paramedics had certainly done a job on keeping him alive long enough to make it here, but each step he made was painful enough that it caused his gait to waver.

A spasm of pain crossed his face as he stepped into the room. Erin saw this and tried to rush towards him, but another roar from the Bloofer stopped her in her tracks.

"The packs don't work against this thing", she said breathlessly.

"Because it's not of this world", Jayson said, "your weapon won't work on the Bloofer like it would on a ghost."

"Then what the hell do we do?"

Jayson looked at the angry Bloofer, knowing it was only licking the wound he'd given for a moment.

That was all they had.

He knew he couldn't produce another powerful shot like that. He didn't even know where he'd gotten the energy to do it anyway.

He looked at Erin as she rubbed a small button on the proton blaster.

"What's that?"

Erin looked at him. "Possibly, the confirmation that I won't live to see my next paycheck."

"What?"

"Plan Beta. Salina, said it's a self destruct function on the particle thrower. In other words, big-a-boom!"

"Maybe coming back here wasn't such a great idea after all", Jayson deadpanned. As he said it, the Bloofer had had enough as it rushed towards the surface, knocking both Jayson and Erin to the side, exposing it's full set of teeth.

It was a nightmare come to life: there were no eyes. Underneath its many tentacles was a mouth, where the worst of its fangs were located. Jayson looked at it for a moment, entranced that something like this could possibly be transported to third dimensional space.

"Um, Mr. Riddle? You're sort of crushing my boob there..."

Jayson had landed on top of Erin.

"My sincerest apologies", he said quickly (yet painfully) rolling over. "What was that you were saying about Plan Beta?"

The monster roared again, shaking some of the beams from the ceiling. Erin raised her voice.

"If I press this button on the pack here, it will cause a protonic explosion that will probably atomize us, this building, and Squidward there."

"Isn't that a bit of a drastic plan?"

Erin nodded as she flipped open the protective case. "No other choice. You can't do anything. I can't do anything..."

"Erin..."

The Client Administrator turned around, startled, to look at the source of the voice. It was Rob, attempting to get up from his corner of the room but failing.

"I'll cover you", Jayson said as he drew a transmutation circle on the ground, summoning a demon of his own to keep the Bloofer busy as Erin hopped over to Rob.

"Check my left pocket..." Rob said weakly. As odd as his request sounded, Erin did as she was asked and rifled through it.

"Okay, but next time you're taking me out to dinner and a movie first, Mister," She joked, elated to see him alive.

Her fingers fell upon two Ecto-Spheres that Rob had invented, mostly for portable use against smaller ghosts and demons.

"It's got an automatic override that CJ suggested", Rob explained pointing to the yellow button underneath the sphere. Like the proton blaster, it was also protected by a glass case. "Implosion, a little more controllable than the proton packs. Catches anything within a mile in it's trap."

"Little bugger does all that?" Erin said amazed.

Rob mustered a slight laugh, but gripped his side still feeling the pain from the Servant's last little gift.

"You expected anything less from me? Hope you played softball as a kid."

"Are you kidding? I was in the Silver Spring, Maryland Junior League All-Stars five years running!"

Erin unstrapped her proton pack and slid it over to Riddle.

"Distract Bruce with that!" she shouted.

Jason doing his best to keep the beast at bay with his magic, "Oh, it has a name now?"

Riddle had no time to debate, as his Scorchos were being decimated by the Bloofer. The beam hit the monster in the mouth, destroying several of its teeth as it bored down upon Jayson, Erin, and the wounded Rob.

Erin wound the Ecto-Sphere only twice in her arm (arming it on the first spin) before tossing it with enough ferocity to rival Christy Matthewson...

The sphere bounced off the edge of the monster's mouth and clattered towards oblivion.

"Nice shoot'n Tex", Rob deadpanned.

"I should've mentioned that we lost all five years", Erin said sheepishly.

"You know, I'd hate to be a bother, Luv, but can we stop with this Vaudevillian comedy!" Jayson shouted. "Throw another sphere!"

Erin wound up the second one.

Her aim was true.

She grabbed Jayson and ran to Rob's corner, understanding that their close proximity would still put them in harms way.

"Cover your eyes!" Erin shouted to Jayson as she covered Rob's.

The Sphere entered the Bloofer's mouth and, almost immediately upon connection with it's tongue, exploded. Even with her eyes tightly shut, Erin could see tinges of the bright yellow and blue light at the corners of her eyes. There was also a forceful wind as the Sphere was forcing everything and anything it could inside it's cacophonous realms. The monster roared one last time...

Then everything was all silent.

Dust fell from the ceiling as Erin peered from the corner.

"Did we kill it?" she asked. She got her answer in the spinning Ecto-Sphere.

The green light dinged.

She grinned.

_I got one_.

"Congratulations, Erin. You're a Ghostbuster", Rob said.

"I think I need more practice", Erin admitted shrugging. Rob nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, you do", he said before slumping over.

"We have to get him to a hospital", Jayson said helping Rob up.

"You could use one yourself", Erin commented, pointing to Jayson's wound. Blood was beginning to seep through his bandage.

"I'll live", he replied. He looked at the ruined floor. "So how do we get outta' here?"

Erin looked around then grinned as she retrieved her proton pack.

"These things aren't toys for nothing", she said eying the north wall and then looked at Statler for approval.

He smiled, "Go for it."

Outside

It had begun to rain.

Against the storm and the damage in his heart, Andrew thought he was going to drown.

Clutched at his breast was an unconscious Salina.

He knew he had to keep her head above water.

His right shoulder throbbed, both from the wound Salina had inflicted there and from the loss of blood he was experiencing.

It was the water that had brought him back to consciousness. Perhaps the shock of the ice-cold bay coupled with his own guilt had a tequila-like effect upon his psyche. He had been submerged under the waves, falling deeper into the void until he had come to his senses.

Nearby, he had seen Salina.

It was natural instinct what had to happen next.

A wave hit his eyes, blinding him temporarily and obscuring his vision but he still soldiered on as he swam towards the dock.

_Gotta keep going_, he chanted in his head. _Gotta keep going_. His muscles ached and his head throbbed.

_What's the point of having all these skills if..._

He stopped there.

He had no answer.

There was only _if_.

And that was not good enough.

A powerful wave swept Andrew and Salina near the foot of the dock. He carried her to safety up the drywood ladder and gently layed her back on the board surface. She was still, but breathing.

He got up and looked at her for a few minutes.

_What do I do when she wakes up? What do I _say

He saw a nearby hobo walking up towards them, eating peanuts out of a paperbag.

"Mister..." Andrew said in a low voice. "Could you...take care of her for me?"

The old man didn't understand and scratched his scraggly white beard. "What? But? Who am I gonna' call?"

Any other time, that statement would have amused him. But, not now. Andrew didn't respond. He searched his wallet for money and handed the hobo enough to hail a cab and see that she'd be taken to a hospital, as he turned his back and walked despondently towards the bridge into the fog of the night.

From there, he'd hop a ride.

From there...

_God only knows_.

**Chapter 16: Let the Bodies Hit The Floor**

_He watched for some time as they walked from their damaged battleground. _

_Wounded, scarred._

_But alive._

_This incensed the Servant._

_What more could he possibly sacrifice to make sure that his master's enemies were destroyed?_

_The first part of his master's first plan had worked: the city where the heroes dwell was in darkness. He had delivered that promise once he had removed his twin from existence._

_Oh how he had enjoyed that. The look upon his twin's face as he stabbed him through the chest...watching his eyes grow wide with the fear and shock he had delivered. _

_Glorious the blood was._

_And oh what fun he had with his twin's associate, the little man who was nothing._

_He saw this same man now, standing weakly with the woman and the bigger man._

_The Bloofer had failed._

_They were alive._

_He had failed._

_He had failed his master._

**Chapter 17: Recollections from Erin Cummins, Client Administrator**

_I hadn't really the heart to write all this down. It's only been a month since what happened happened, and yet I still feel like it all happened yesterday. The memory of that whole horrible day...I always pray that it ebbs with each passing year...but it is always with me, like so many memories. Good and bad._

_My first adventure as a Ghostbuster proved a success: I had not only successfully handled a proton pack without legendarily "shooting my eye out", but had (with some help) also defeated my first real monster. Salina called it a "Bloofer"; and yet I still have no idea in hell what it was exactly._

_Rob's injuries were still serious. He never really lets on when he is in pain, but I could see it in the beads of sweat dotting his face as we (myself and Jayson Riddle, a friend of Brian's) helped him to his feet. The blast that the servant of Thorsen had given him was still in effect. He was unable to walk without our aid._

_It was unanimously decided that we should head to the hospital. Even though I agreed to this idea, I felt that I needed to stay here. Salina and Andrew..._

_Salina had said she'd be back. _

_Looking for Andrew._

_Neither of them were upstairs when I did quick reconnaissance of the HQ. _

_It was all blown to hell. Even my desk, a gift from the guys on my one-year anniversary was busted. _

_Neither Salina nor Andrew were around, even as I called their names several times._

_I realized I couldn't wait behind too long. Rob was hurt and, judging by the pained expressions every time he moved, needed immediate attention. Jayson himself looked in dire need of attention. Nobody I've known has shown up wearing a bandage around their waists with their shirts off like he did. And the blood...I could see it beginning to seep through the bandage._

"_We have to go.." he said harshly, holding Rob up._

_I looked at him and looked around the HQ._

_Was this all there was to Ghostbusting? _

_Destruction?_

_Decimation?_

_Death?_

_I thought back to CJ._

_A way-worse situation than any I'd ever heard from the guys. Thorsen's cold eyes...I could still feel them looking down at me as he did it...no remorse behind those black pupils as CJ disappeared before me._

_Suddenly, Jayson grabbed my arm._

"_What are you doing?" I asked._

"_We have to go. Now."_

_I didn't understand as he pulled me out the door, leading Rob and I to the garage. I held onto Rob as he opened it, revealing the two Ectomobiles. _

"_You got keys?" he said looking back at me._

"_Yeah", I replied handing him over a set that I was given sometime earlier in the year._

_Part of my pestering to actually have more access in case things got hairy._

_Guess I got my wish, eh?_

_Jayson went for the bigger car, the Ecto-Millennium._

_Rob's baby._

_He helped me lay Rob in the first row of the backseats. He then hopped in the front seat and turned on the engine. She hadn't seen much use in the last few months, but I had to admit that she was a beaut that Rob took great pride in as the engine purred...like a lion._

"_Hospital?" he asked._

"_What'd you expect? A strip club?" I responded. I looked back at Jayson's wound again. "We ought to get you patched up too."_

"_I'm fine", he replied in a crisp tone. I didn't believe him._

_Suddenly, I felt the car jar violently, pitching me into the dashboard. In my mind, I wondered 'What the hell?'. _

"_Oh shit", Jayson said looking in the rearview mirror._

"_What?" _

_He didn't answer me, so I turned around to see what he was looking at. _

_It was the Servant._

_He was pissed._

_He held up an open palm and then closed it. At the same time, the Ecto-Millennium's trunk collapsed on itself, working it's way slowly towards the front._

"_Grab Rob!" I shouted as I switched on my proton pack. I only held the Positron Collider in my hands, the pack itself sitting on the floorboards. "Come on big dude", I heard Jayson say as he kicked out the side door and pulled Rob out to safety. The wave of metal and and steel continued it's roll towards me as I fired at the Servant's head and rolled out the car. I heard him howl as the stream hit him in the face, blinding him. _

"_Hey", Jayson said pointing at the car._

"_What?"_

"_Hear that?"_

"_What?"_

_I didn't understand what it was that Jayson was seeing...or even hearing it. _

"_It's gasoline", he said. "The bastard's caused a gas leak when he crushed the car."_

_I understood what he was saying then._

_After all, how many action movies have I seen this cliché?_

_I fired the Collider at the car and within seconds it was engulfed in flames...followed rapidly by an explosion. I knew that when Rob came to he was gonna kill me, but I guess it was all for the best._

_The Servant was knocked through the concrete wall and into the water below from the impact of the explosion. _

_I hoped he fried like a piece of Colonel Sander's chicken._

_I let out a sigh of relief. _

"_Don't sight yet", Jayson said._

"_Why not?"_

"_I still...feel that darkness that the bastard was emanating."_

"_What do you mean?"_

_The room suddenly exploded in a blinding green light, similar to what I had seen earlier. _

"_You idiots."_

"_We're screwed," I thought. "Could anything stop this monster?"_

"_It would have been so perfect for you to die. You would have been my reward...my master...he promised me...and I...promised him!" Suddenly, I felt an electric jolt shoot through my body as my hand dropped the Collider. The Servant rose through the ruined wall of the garage, floating above me, Jayson, and Rob as if some devil on earth._

_What am I saying?_

_Of course he was a devil._

_He looked over at the still burning remains of the Ecto-Millennium and I could literally feel the power that he put into it as he blew it up one last time, destroying it completely. I was the closest to the car, and the shockwave sent me flying across the room. I wasn't burned, but I felt the singe of a tan forming._

_The Servant then went over to Jayson, writing on the ground as he attempted to get to his feet. He kicked Jayson in the mouth. He then grabbed Jayson by his neck and picked him up, so that the two were level_

"_Don't you see? Don't you all see? You're finished. You don't have any clue what it took to bring my master back here to this world after he failed to conquer it once before. How many deaths it took him to get the power that he wanted. Not that he needed it."_

"_The members of Ra..." Jayson said softly. The Servant grinned._

"_Bingo, genius. He wanted you too, but you shook him off too easily. You weren't weak-minded enough to fall for the mind game. He would have done you in like he did that bitch in Chicago, but he didn't think about it at the time." The Servant threw a heavy right hook across Jayson's face, sending him back to the ground. I could see that he was out cold._

_He now walked over to me. He grabbed my hair, but I felt no pain. _

_From that._

"_Another hero", he said. "Your noble heart brought you here. You're not one of those that my master told me about. You have no special talents like the others. Heh, you barely know how to work that thing."_

_He expected me to say something._

_I had nothing._

"_Hmmm, you also already know your place. Perhaps I might spare you after all. The master did say I could keep anyone I see to my own purposes."_

"_On a cold, icy day in hell!" I shouted and, putting all the strength I could possibly have into my left leg, kicked the bastard in his gonads. He dropped me to the ground. But he was still going._

"_Bitch!" he shouted and grabbed my neck. He picked me up, tightening his grip._

"_You must be very tired of living", he said to me. "Give Beezlebub my regards". I could feel my trachea beginning to close, the air supply slowly disappearing. My head was getting light, but then I heard Jayson's voice._

"_Why don't you tell him yourself asshat." He was standing up now, blood pouring from his mouth. He looked defiant. "Look at your feet."_

_The Servant looked down slow and a horror crossed his face. He dropped me again. I gulped down what felt like gallons of air. _

_It was a pentagram that Jayson had drawn on the floor, using blood from his first wound. _

_Jayson grinned as he put his hand on the ground. A blue light zipped from that hand, across the floor, and hit the pentagram, illuminating it._

"_No!" The Servant shouted as he tried to get out. He was trapped in it._

"_Erin, it might do you some good if you get as far away from that as possible", Jayson said. "The Netherworld, they're not too picky about who they bring down."_

_I didn't argue as I ran to a safe distance behind the Ecto-M. What happened defies most laws of physics. Hell, it defies most conventions. I'll try to explain what I saw, but if I lack in detail, I apologize._

_The pentagram began to glow a dark red as it ensnared the servant. The look of horror on his face was disturbing but I could turn away from it. Suddenly, he was surrounded by a circle of fire, and I could hear the high pitched resonance of laughter surrounding the Servant. _

_It was then that I saw it...a small black creature, no bigger than my shin, crawled on the Servant's arm and began gnawing away at him. Another crawled up behind his back, followed by several more as the began attacking his body._

"_Stop messing with me!" he shouted and began ripping them off. It was no use from what I could tell. _

_A smell began to roll into the room. I remembered how Salina had described it to me once, this putrid stench that defies all that is even pure and holy._

"_Death", I said under my breath._

_Rotting hands began to crawl from underneath the Servant, tugging at his clothes, and ripping his flesh. _

"_Nonononono!" he continued to shout. "Master! My Liege! Help me!"_

"_No one's gonna help you now, bubba", Jayson said. "You called me weak...harmless even. Who's the pussy now?"_

"_Noooo!Yahhhh. AHHHH! AHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHH!…" _

_Those were the final words I heard from the Servant as he disappeared within the flames. When I checked that spot several days later, I realized there was a scorch mark in the shape of the pentagram burned into the concrete._

_After what I had witnessed, I emerged from my hiding spot to catch a collapsing Jayson in my arms and laid him up against Rob; I then joined them on the ground._

_Dawn was about to come, as the storm dissipated. We both took a sigh of relief._

_I could hear the blare of police sirens and abulances approaching in the distance._

"_Do you think Detective Madison is on his way?" I asked. _

"_If he is, Luv, I'm sure he'll be absolutely thrilled to see me," Jayson said grinning a little bit. "Thank God that's over. Now…we can go to the hospital."_

_I returned his grin. "Yeah."_

**To be continued in:**

**Ghostbusters Doom Patrol**

**"The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man"**


End file.
